Alterity (Them)
by EverandeverGreen
Summary: Thrawn had shown Cadet Turuy nothing but patience and understanding despite her rough treatment of him at the Royal Imperial Academy, so when she steals one of the designs of his ship prototypes and uses it to secure a place in the Tarkin Initiative, he has no choice but to retaliate.
1. The Arrival

_**Chapter One: The Arrival **_

_**1100 hours ** _

_ ** Royal Imperial Academy, Port Side Common Room ** _

_ ** The big, comfy, leather couch ** _

Rosita Turuy flinched in horror.

"What in the Star's light is that supposed to be?" she hissed.

"Mm, whatdoyou—" Spenc Orbar peeled his lips off her neck and turned to see what could have possibly grabbed her attention. "Do you mean that alien over there?"

"Yes, obviously."

"He's here to clean." He returned his mouth to her neck and began kissing along her jawline.

Rosita scoffed. "Since when do _**we**_ have cleaners? Us cadets are responsible for keeping the barracks clean, _**remember**_?"

She couldn't believe it was possible he forgot this when the instructors had been repeating it constantly since day one. "And you know what else?" she went on, "I think I saw a service droid bringing a new mattress through here a little while ago. You don't think it's for him?"

It was the weekend so no one was in uniform this made it difficult to tell whether or not the alien was a cadet, an instructor, or merely some foreign contaminant.

Spenc stopped kissing her, but only so he could groan pitifully into the hollow of her throat.

"Come to my room," he demanded. "I'll make sure Gimm clears out until lunch." He reached over and cupped one of her breasts.

"Can you stop that for a moment, please?" she pushed him away. "We _shouldn't_ even be doing this out in the open. Would you like to get it in again with Commandant Deenlark?"

"Fuck Deenlark."

"Spenc!"

"Calm down." He put two fingers beneath her chin and tipped her head up. "We didn't get charged. No one here would dare charge me, or my woman. My family practically pays the water bills."

"We have two strikes now," she reminded him.

"And for our third, we'll get assigned essays. Another on the importance of respecting our stations, and the dangers of frat." He kissed her cheek. "Or they'll make us scrub the floors." He kissed the tip of her nose. "Or incinerate fraudulent scandocs." He kissed her lips— only this one was slow and lingering. "Whatever it is, I swear I'll make sure we get to do it together."

She rolled her eyes and allowed access to her throat again. It did feel rather nice and his treatment did nothing to impede her view of the newcomers.

The alien could not look more out of place; she couldn't look away. He was blue with red eyes— red eyes that appeared to be scanning his surroundings critically. He somehow looked evil and sly, yet had no expression on his face. None whatsoever.

Following rather doggedly behind him was a runt of a boy, with olive skin and unkempt hair. He looked anywhere between twelve and twenty-five, it was hard to say, and while the alien showed no visible emotion, the young man looked terribly pained.

'_You think you're too good for this place, kid?'_ she thought scornfully.

"Come on," Spenc said. "Let's go back to my room and finish this. I'm about to poke a hole through my trousers, and if you don't want to get caught..."

Rosita tore her gaze from the newcomers.

"I don't know," she said. "Have you finished polishing your boots for the parade rehearsal tomorrow? I know they failed inspection yesterday."

"Who told you that?"

"Gimm."

"Gilroy's a sniffing liar," he snapped. "And why are you two discussing me behind my back?"

She smirked and gave him a little shrug.

"Come on, let me prove it to you. They're sitting on my trunk and they're gleaming."

"Gleaming, you say?"

"Yes." Spenc pulled her up and against him. She tittered gently; the poor guy really was fit to burst.

"Alright," she said, becoming prim. "If it will get you off my back. But only with your mouth?"

He snorted. "We'll see."

** … **

As soon as Rosita entered the mess, she noticed that the blue alien and his accomplice were there. They sat alone at one of the round tables off to the side— one of the reject tables used to punish those who went out of line.

Lucky for them it was the weekend, or one of the instructors would have punished every last one of them for allowing the pair to break protocol. They were all to use the long tables and benches and eat together as one. For now, everyone seemed to be giving the two a wide berth, their necks craned back to get good looks at them as they passed by.

She would have hated that herself— all that negative attention. She found a seat at one of the tables where her course-mates sat grouped together.

"You were right," Spenc said, sliding onto the bench next to her, and slapping his tray down so hard his soup sloshed out of its bowl.

"About?" she asked.

"The alien," he sneered, "is going to be a cadet here and it's to graduate with our term."

"I told you so," she smirked

"Yes, well I don't exactly listen to all of your theories while I'm on top and doing my thing."

People within earshot began to snicker and Rosita's face burned. She was about to chide Spenc for airing out their business, but he wasn't quite through yet—

"Oh, and that little minion of his, the one following him around like a mutt, he's from Wild Space and he'll be graduating with us as well."

Gimm decided then to make a spectacle of himself and showed off his best and loudest impression of a Wild Space yokel. "SCHOOL'S GONE TO THA DOGS Y'ALL!"

Rosita pushed him away when he went, YEEHAW in her face.

"You are so obnoxious Gimm, like seriously, so obnoxious!" she snarled.

"And you're so hot, Turuy," Gimm replied. "Seriously, so hot. The things I would do to you—"

"Shove off, Gilroy!" Spenc punched Gimm on the shoulder, but he wore a shit-eating grin while doing it. Apparently, Gimm's half-assed attempt at sexual harassment was to be seen as some sort of compliment towards his manhood.

Rosita rolled her eyes and tossed down the crust of her sandwich. "You know what? I'm going to go over there and introduce myself."

"No, you're not," Spenc said, ripping his roll apart and dropping half into his soup.

When she raised an eyebrow coolly at him, he added, "Trust me, you don't want to be seen associating with them. It would be career suicide."

"I would like to see what he's about, that's all."

True to her word, Rosita got up and sauntered over to the intruders' table, turning once to look over her shoulder with a mischievous grin. It appeared as though everyone was watching her.

The alien sat with perfect posture and was looking down at his tray of food with his head cocked a bit to the side as if considering whether or not it was edible. She cleared her throat and waited for him to look up.

He did and blinked his strange purplish eyelids over his strange red eyes. She found herself wondering how they would look in a dark room; did they glow? Whatever the case, they were very creepy.

"Apparently you two are supposed to be new cadets here." Rosita tried for the moment to keep her tone flat and without accusation. "Is this true?"

"It is," the alien said quietly.

There was a bit of an accent there that she couldn't place. Her gaze moved to his little companion, who watched on in wary silence as she sat down.

"Until graduation?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Lucky you. Now your scandocs will show that you attended classes here at the RIA, but in reality, you'll only have to put up with a semester of the bullshit we had to endure for four years."

Neither of them said a thing. The Alien's mouth was twisted ever so slightly to the right. So, his silence was not as impassive as he wanted it to seem; he was obviously considering her every word before he formulated some sort of rebuttal. As for the Wild Spacer, Rosita deduced that his silence was stony and he was doing his best to not say what was on his mind.

She latched onto that. "Something on your mind, friend?" she caught the boy's gaze and held it.

It was the alien who answered for him. "The emperor believed it necessary we attend classes here."

She narrowed her eyes in disbelief. "The emperor sent _you_ here? Emperor Palpatine?"

"Yes."

She drew herself up. "Even so, this is highly irregular, you do know that?"

"I have been told."

The alien's voice was soft and yet so deep she could feel it in her chest, like the purr of a Togorian.

"So, were you transferred from another Academy? One far in the Outer Rim?" Her lip curled up and she spared the young man a glance. "Wild Space perhaps?"

"Further," The alien said.

"Well, wherever you're from, I think its rubbish that you should be allowed here. It's completely unfair. As you can see, I'm not the only one." Rosita half turned in the chair and splayed her fingers in the direction of the other tables, many of their occupants were watching the exchange with various states of disapproval.

"I just thought the two of you should know that." She shrugged with her lips pursed and sauntered back to her spot— away from… _them_.

* * *

I came to realize I was forcing way too many plotlines into one story so I took it upon myself to remove: The Tarkin Initiative plotline, The ISB Cop Drama Plot line, and the Rescue Thrawn from Ezra plot line so I can make separate stories out of them. Then I realize I removed way too much plot and weakened Alterity as a cohesive story, so now I'm reattaching the Tarkin Initiative plotline. My research into the history of the arms market is proving fruitful; I'll have enough material to work with without having to bring the drug war into it—though the two subjects are entwined.


	2. Parade Rehearsal and Punishment

**Chapter Two: Parade Rehearsal and Punishment**

**0900 hours**

**The Officer's Hall**

It was a punishment and Rosita had done nothing to deserve it.

'_Are you fucking kidding me, sir!' _she imagined herself yelling in Lieutenant Dengar's face. _'Why am I being singled out to play tour guide to a pair of rejects?'_

Instead of all that, she stood silently at attention, rubbed her fingertips together at her sides and waited for Lieutenant Dengar to finish giving her instructions.

"After the rehearsal, you'll make arrangements with Cadet Thrawn and Cadet Vanto on when and where they'll meet up with you."

"And I'm the most suitable candidate for this task?" she asked with her eyebrows raised.

"You were the only cadet we saw make an effort to speak to the pair when we had them sit at one of the dunce tables. We leave it up to you to bring them up to speed on the way we do things here."

So, this was why she was being punished, they witnessed her speak to them and not invite them to sit with the rest of the group. She had forgotten the most important rule of any military school: Everything is a test. The Academy's motto: _We are one. We are the Empire __was to be taken with the utmost seriousness._

"Yes, sir," Rosita said in a resigned mutter.

"Let me remind you, Cadet, you're here to learn how to follow orders not to question them. You're not Orbar and you would do well to remember that."

"Yes, sir."

Apparently, she had to work on masking her indignation better.

** … **

**1000 hours**

**The Parade Grounds**

It was an unseasonably hot morning—much too hot for a parade rehearsal.

"QUICK MARCH!"

The lines of cadets marched forward in formation, their arms swung high in perfect time and they held their rifles pressed against their shoulders. Once in position, they halted at attention and awaited their first command.

"PRESENT ARMS!"

She lifted the blaster rifle, slapped the side and brought it down. They had them repeat this one move for what felt like an hour until finally, Croon yelled: "SHOULDER ARMS!"

This time Rosita lifted the rifle to her shoulder and came back to attention—again, then again, and again.

"OPEN ORDER!"

Rosita moved up three steps.

"RIGHT DRESS!"

They turned their faces to the right and then shuffled out to straighten the lines, the pounding of their boots sounded like so many drops of rain.

"EYES FRONT!"

She looked forward.

"ORDER ARMS!"

She put the butt of the rifle against the ground and watched from the corner of her eyes as the company of instructors filed through the lines to inspect. She thought she could feel something crawling on her neck beneath the stiff garborwool of her dress uniform but she dared not scratch at it.

Discipline and nothing else: This was a mantra she would not soon forget.

"STAND AT EASE!"

She stood at ease.

"Cadet Vanto!" she heard Croon bark from nearby behind her. "Your hair. Did they not have you groom in that ship-dent of a school you came from?"

"No answer? Well, la dee da, who would have guessed it? You have brains under that mop. Go get a trim. The rest of cadets will wait patiently here for your return."

Her brain felt like it would implode with dark thoughts. _'Vanto, you useless shit-pump! I hope the guys have the good sense to hold you down and shave you bald in the showers!"_

They waited…

And waited…

And waited for his return.

It had to have been over an hour, judging by the sun's short journey over the parade grounds. Its rays beat down on her neck and left her feeling like a rasher of fried bacon: thin, greasy and done.

What the fuck was taking him so long?

Once Vanto returned they were able to execute the remaining drill without any further delays. Luckily those in attendance were given the rest of the day off classes or else she would have killed him herself.

Rosita found Thrawn as the cadets filed towards the showers. She yanked on his sleeve and turned him around to face her. He finally showed some semblance of actual emotion, not surprise or suspicion, like would have been normal given the circumstances, but a mild hint of… she wasn't quite sure what it was.

"You and Vanto will meet me in the mess hall at seventeen hundred hours, I'm too give you a tour." She went to brush past him, tried to use her shoulder to shove him aside, only his feet were planted too firmly against the ground, so she kind of just ricocheted awkwardly off him and back a step.

"Would you like to pass?" he asked politely, stepping aside and gesturing for her to go ahead of him with his hand.

She nodded stiffly and her face burned with heat. She hoped no one behind them witnessed that.

** … **

Rosita closed her eyes and made a wish that when she opened them, both Thrawn and Vanto would disappear. The instructors couldn't punish her for not giving them a tour if they happened to vanish into thin air.

She opened her eyes. It didn't work. They continued to stare expectantly at her.

"This is the Victory Cantina," she said dully. "There are another ten cantinas spread throughout the campus, each serves food and drink round-the-clock."

Some of the patrons were looking at them with interest that ranged from mild to downright obnoxious. "Can we help you?" Rosita asked of a cadet who was staring up at Thrawn with his mouth agape.

The cadet looked away sharply, then went back to blowing on his caf.

'_Idiot,' __she thought._

"The three meals we get in the mess are free," she went on, "But you pay for anything you order from the cantinas. To pay for things on campus we use what we call our: Chow Cards."

She pulled hers out and showed them. "Please tell me you were given your documentation already?"

They each pulled out two scandocs and a datacylindor.

"Good," she said. "I'd hate to have to actually take you into the administration building—the clerks can be pissants this late in the day."

She saw Vanto mouth the word, "Unpleasant," to Thrawn.

"What did you call me?"

Vanto raised both his hands in the air. "I'm Thrawn's translator," he explained. "He wasn't sure what you meant by pissant."

"Really?" she turned to Thrawn. "So, Emperor Palpatine sent you here, _and_ he gave you Vanto as a translator?"

"Yes," he said softly.

Besides having a subtle accent, his Basic seemed more than satisfactory. She stared hard at him, and then at Vanto—who was much more expressive both in facial expressions and in body language—neither showed any signs that they were lying. A thought came to her: what if they were informants, sent from the palace to sniff out those undeserving of their chosen path?

No, that didn't make sense. The emperor wouldn't choose an alien and Wild Spacer for such a task. Or would he? Who was she to say how Emperor Palpatine's mind worked?

Rosita shook her head to clear it. "Let's keep moving," she said hesitantly.

They came to a row of lifts and waited for their turn. "Can I see your schedules?" she asked them.

"Here," said Vanto, handing her his datapad. "We're in the same classes."

She looked it over, her eyes narrowing further and further as she read on. "We share many of the same classes. Do you both mean to pursue careers in intelligence or weapon manufacturing?"

"Well, before becoming Thrawn's aide, I was on my way to becoming a supply officer."

"A supply officer?" she gasped and slapped her cheek with mock enthusiasm, then added, deadpanned, "You really reached for the stars, Vanto."

Vanto's face blossomed with colour and his lips curled up at one side. "Someone has to do it," he retorted.

"And who better than a Wild Spacer?" she quipped.

Finally, a lift became available. "After you," Rosita said, motioning for them to go inside. She went in after them and turned to face the doors. She thought she could feel both their gazes on her back— glaring most likely.

"What academy did you attend, before coming here?"

"Myomar," Vanto answered. There was a note of defensiveness to his tone that made Rosita smirk.

"Haven't heard of it," she said dismissively. "And what about you, Thrawn?"

"One that is not of this Empire."

"That's right, you said you come from somewhere further than Wild Space. You don't mean the Unknown Regions, do you?"

"Indeed, I do," he said.

They reached their destined floor and Rosita began leading them down a long wide corridor. She was calm on the outside, but thinking all the time—Thrawn came from the Unknown Regions, somehow garnered favor with the Emperor and was now positioned to graduate from the empire's top military academy? How?

She could ask him herself, but why ruin the fun of finding out on her own? She looked over her shoulder at him; he didn't seem to notice her scrutiny, busy as he was taking in his surroundings.

What was he looking for? What did he see? Most importantly, how did he see it?

She halted and turned sharply to face him. "Can you see through walls?" she asked suddenly.

If he was taken aback, he didn't show it. "No," he said.

"Your eyes, they're—" Rosita wanted to say, _'The stuff of nightmares,'_ but instead she peered closely at them and asked, "How do you see me?"

With little change to his overall bearing, Thrawn began describing her in a measured voice. "I see that you are pale of skin. Your eyes are brown, as is your hair."

_'Okay, nothing weird about that,'_ she thought.

"I see this colour scheme often in humans—dark hair and dark eyes—" He added. "Your features are symmetrical. You are conventionally attractive for your species. I can see your facial heat, here," he used a finger to draw a circle in the area of her chin and lips. "Here," he pointed to each of her cheeks. "And here." He drew a line over the vicinity of her forehead.

"The colour is rising and spreading." He dragged his fingers up his own throat and along his cheeks. "It is now becoming difficult to discern your pale colouring from the red and orange glow," he finished.

Rosita swallowed, hard.

"You can see within the infrared spectrum." It sounded an awful lot like his creepy eyes were superior to her normal ones. "What are you exactly?"

"I am Chiss."

**… **

"This is the Stimulation Room," Rosita declared loudly over the noise. "Here during our free time, we are able to come and play hologames that simulate battle schemes."

An Umbaran walked by them, all pale and sinewy, with a wisp of white hair on her otherwise bald head. Thrawn turned to stare after her.

"You aren't the only alien here if that's what you're wondering," she said.

"I see."

"Did you have a Stimulation Room at Myomar Academy, Vanto?" she asked.

"Of course," he said, while looking around in awe, "Only ours didn't amount to a hill of nuts next to this one."

"A hill of nuts?" Rosita rolled her eyes for what felt like the umpteenth time. "Can you at least try to not sound like a stereotype?"

"Stereotype?" Thrawn said quizzically.

"I can't," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I just can't with either of you right now." She walked up ahead of them so she wouldn't have to hear Vanto patiently explain to Thrawn what a stereotype was using some backwater dialect only Wild Spacers used.

Next Rosita took them down past the dojo, through the weight rooms and to the Simulation pool.

"This pool is used for training purposes only. We aren't allowed to use it unless there's an instructor present. If you do wish to swim recreationally, each of the four dormitories has its own pool for that purpose."

She led them carefully over the wet tiles to the pool's edge, so that they could look down.

"The pool's depths reach 164 feet, that's as deep as it is long. Below are three simulated caves at varying depths. I noticed we're all scheduled to take physical training together, so you'll be taking part in the race we have here in a month. There's a prize of 15000 credits to go to the winning team of three."

She saw Vanto perk up, like he thought he had a chance at winning the money.

"Can you swim, Thrawn?" she asked.

"I can," he replied.

"Well," she grinned widely. "We'll certainly see if that's the case."

"Indeed."

They finished the remainder of the tour and ended in the main Atrium.

"Do either of you have questions for me?" Rosita asked.

Vanto shook his head no.

"And you?"

"You were thorough," Thrawn said.

"Good. I think that's everything, then," she clapped her hands together. "All in all, life here is a constant challenge. Consider everything a test."

She drew herself up in a long inhale and exhaled loudly. "Now, I know you're going to attempt to change how things are done here to better accommodate your limitations, but my advice is you don't bother."

Vanto, the ingrate, muttered something under his breath and looked away from her in evident disgust, Thrawn, on the other hand, remained as composed as ever.

"What makes you infer that we would do such a thing?" he asked softly.

She shrugged. "I've noticed aliens and Wild Spacers tend to…how do I put this lightly… complain more."

"Do you base many of your conclusions on anecdotal evidence, Cadet Turuy?"

"I don't consider my observations anecdotes," she said matter-of-factly. "And you, Cadet Thrawn, are you often passive-aggressive? Or was your question not meant as an attack?"

He remained silent, but there was a slight raise to one of his eyebrows to mirror her own disdain.

"That's what I thought. Oh, and one more thing. Don't get lost; it'll reflect poorly on me. You may only have a semester here, but I can make sure it's absolutely agonizing for you both."

And with that last pronouncement, Rosita left them to go find Spenc; he said he had something important to ask her.


	3. Salvation?

**Chapter Three:Salvation?**

Spenc ambushed Rosita the moment she entered his room.

"How was the tour?" he asked with a scowl.

"Exhausting," Rosita said, then she began recounting the tour, leaving out the part where Thrawn called her attractive. It was said in such a detached way—like he was giving her a clinical diagnosis rather than a compliment. Only Spenc wouldn't understand this and would feel compelled to confront Thrawn about it.

"So, he's a Chiss. Hm." Spenc's grimace deepened with confusion. "I can't say I've heard of them before. I suspected he was some kind of mongrel with Duros blood."

"His kind live in the Unknown Regions," she said.

"The Unknown Regions? How did he get all the way here?"

"It doesn't matter how—what matters is why. Look, from now on you need to be more selective of the types of games you choose to play with him and Vanto."

Spenc wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed his fingers down hard on her hips. "Why?" he challenged.

"Because your family might not be able to bribe your way out of a sexual misconduct charge."

"Sexual misconduct? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you staring at a fellow cadet's privates in the showers," she said. "Then making wagers out of what it looks like. That is a definite breach of protocol—one that would see you expelled."

"Oh, that." He snorted with laughter. "We were discreet. They didn't say anything about it, did they?"

"No."

"See?" his grin widened.

"Yes, but you were all bragging about it in the mess where anyone could hear you. I'm pretty sure Pedra aims to impress him, so you should be especially careful of what you say around her."

"Impress who? Not Thrawn?"

"You know how she is."

He shrugged. "Where's this all coming from? You didn't care earlier."

"Remember how I told you Thrawn said it was Emperor Palpatine who sent them here? Today he told me Vanto was sent to be his aide. Wouldn't Palpatine only do that if Thrawn was really important in some way?"

"He's lying."

"Maybe," she said. "But how else would you explain them being transferred here with only five months left to go?"

"You're a shrewd woman. You know…" he tilted his head and smoothed a bit of her hair behind her ear, "That's what I like most about you."

"Really?" she rolled her eyes in disbelief. "My shrewdness?"

"That and…" he trailed off and raised his eyes to consider the bed behind her.

"Aren't you exhausted?"

"Not at all. Drill doesn't do me in, like you."

"It wasn't the parade that did me in," she muttered. "Where's Gimm?"

"Who can say with that one. He's likely out with the Grouson and trying to hunt down some civilian slits."

"Why didn't you go with them?"

"Why would I do that?" he released her then moved to unbutton his shirt.

"Gimm told me how the two of you reminisce about the days you were a bachelor."

"You really need to stop listening to **_everything_ **Gilroy says." Spenc— now in his undershirt—sat on his trunk, dipped a rag in a bit of water, then began polishing away the scuff marks from the parade. "He intends to sabotage our relationship."

She laughed. "He's your best mate, why would he try and sabotage us?"

He lifted his boot and peered closely at it, turning it this way than that, until eventually saying, "Because he wanted you first."

"What?"

"Remember when we were in the same tour group for orientation?"

"Of course."

"Sometime earlier that day, Gilroy noticed you, and he apparently liked what he saw. I was supposed to put in a good word for him, only… well, you know how that went."

She did. She and Spenc had hit it off right away. He seemed to know everything there was to know about the Academy. His brimming confidence was reassuring—she had been so nervous that day.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "You know, thinking back, I don't recall you even mentioning Gimm."

"No, I didn't," he said.

"Ouch. That's a bit cold, don't you think?"

Spenc made a knife-hand with the rag pinched between his index and middle finger and used it to gesticulate sharply. "Gilroy wanted to try you on for size—I ended up wanting to have you forever, so he can go sniff himself." He began to polish his boots again, this time angrily.

The subject obviously irked him. Gimm probably threw it in his face every chance he got. She walked up to him and took his boot from his hand, placing it back down on the trunk.

"Do they know how sweet you are?" she asked while wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

He smiled a small sideways smile. "Do you want them to?"

Rosita allowed him to grab a handful of her shirt and tug her down to his lips. As soon as his tongue found hers, she felt an unadulterated surge of arousal. Next thing she knew, she was climbing up onto the trunk—knocking his boots and polish onto the floor in the process— and ripping her shirt from the waistband of her pants.

Below her, Spenc unbuckled his belt, as she unbuttoned her shirt. "Are you really up for this?" he asked with a smirk.

"Yes."

He helped slide her shirt down and rubbed his hand down the expanse of her stomach. She looked down; his fingers stretched from her navel to her mound.

Spenc's hands were her favorite part of him, strong and dexterous for a pampered rich boy, and when they were on her it made her look especially creamy. She went for his lips again, groaning, until he scooped her up and placed her to sit on the trunk in his place.

He knelt before her and began unbuckling her belt. "Just my mouth this time," he said, before sliding her pants down her legs and descending onto her folds through the fabric of her briefs.

She let her head fall back against the wall and moaned. "We'll see."

Of course, it couldn't end there. Spenc eventually pulled her underwear off and put his entire face into the job, so that his nose, lips, and chin were shining in her glaze. And he didn't let up, not until her hips bucked up hard against him and she clawed and begged for him to take her. Only then did he run the back of his hand over his wet mouth and pick her up to lay her out onto his bed.

If there was ever a time she needed to be on top, it was now. Before he could even think to protest, she pulled him down, wrapped her legs around him, then flipped him over to mount him.

It was a joint effort to get his pants off and before they even fell to the ground, she had him pillowed between her puffy lips and was dragging herself along the length of his cock.

Spenc curled his lips over his teeth and sucked in air through them. Once he grew impatient with her incessant teasing, he began to move his hips, prodding hopefully at her entrance. She moaned but raised herself away. When sure he got the message, she continued with her game.

"Do they know you move like this?" he uttered throatily.

Smirking, Rosita took in the head, and only the head, then squeezed down hard. She watched in utter fascination as his eyes rolled even further back to show the whites.

"Do you want them to?" she asked.

His answer was to grasp her hips and lower her down to take more of him.

They matched each other, shot for shot, in a slow rhythmic pattern—letting it build and fade, build and fade, but never drinking him in past the half-way mark—not needing too, because of the sheer size of him.

Just when the caged bird was about to sing, a sudden and consuming feeling of annoyance crept its way into the pit of her gut, and then words tumbled out of her mouth before she could even consider the time and place.

"A translator and three months here? I just don't get why the emperor would allow such a thing!"

Spenc growled and dropped his head back onto the pillow. "Really? Now?"

"Sorry, it's just—

"We came to an agreement about this," he cut across her. "I don't have to hear your theories during, and I won't talk about our sex life publicly."

"I know, but—

"You know how it puts me out of the mood."

"And what if it puts me into the mood?" she countered.

"Talking about an alien makes you ripe does it?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it!" she went to climb up off him, put both hands on chest and tried to unsheathe the half of him that was still throbbing inside her.

"No, I'm not quite through yet." He held her steady, then with one smooth jerk of his wrists, he slid her down the rest of him, as deep as he could go.

She gasped, loudly, her mouth wide in shock.

"Felt that, did you?" he asked searching her face.

It was a game they had played often before and one Rosita was not about to lose. She shut her mouth and bit down on her lips to keep silent.

He gyrated his hip a few times, as if trying to take great big scoops out of her cervix. "Does that hurt?" he pressed.

She gritted her teeth. It only hurt because he made tense with resentment.

He sat up, pushed her knees up into her shoulders to shorten her canal, then, with a roguish grin began rolling his hips.

A high-pitched whine managed its way past her lips.

"What about that?"

This time she exclaimed, "Yes!"

"Where?"

"Here!" she touched her hand to her stomach.

Grinning, he flipped them around so that she was laying under him with her head on his pillow, and then began taking her fast and shallow.

"Harder Spenc!" she demanded in a breathy wail.

He obliged her.

** … **

"So, what did you want to speak to me about?" Rosita said, putting her shirt back on. She ignored the throbbing pain between her legs, as it would only serve to fuel a hunger in her to think about it.

Spenc was back on his trunk and considering her with his lips compressed into a thin line.

"What's wrong?"

"We graduate in four months," he said. "I figure we need to begin discussing our future."

_'Our future?' _she thought. Her heart began to pound. "What about it?" she asked nonchalantly.

"I was thinking—I was thinking we get married once we're through here."

"You're proposing?"

"No!" he exclaimed. "Do you really think I'd propose to you here, in Gimm's and my room?"

She shrugged.

"I just want you to know I intend to one day soon. Becoming an Orbar is nothing to take lightly—your life would change drastically. I want when you say yes that you would've had time to understand what you're saying yes to."

"When would you propose?"

"I'm not going to tell you when exactly," he said. "But before I stick my neck out, I want to know, is this something you want?"

"Are you being serious right now?"

"Would I joke about something this important?" he asked, looking perplexed.

"You do know most people who get married our age end up miserable by middle age?"

"We're not most people."

"Would your family approve?"

"You will be graduating from one of the most prestigious academies in the empire, you're beautiful, strong and exceptionally intelligent. My family would invest in you in a second if asked."

"I wish to design weapons," she said.

"So, what's your point?"

"My point," Rosita began. "Is that I won't have the time to be your wife. We'll be worlds apart. Literally."

"We could make it work," he said with a bite of impatience. "You must know becoming an Orbar will make you rise through the ranks faster; I haven't even graduated yet and Moff Ghadi's people have already made contact to discuss my future prospects. Have you any idea how competitive it is out there for a weapon designer? You'll be stuck."

"I don't intend to build my career on your back."

He let out a cross between a scoff and sigh. "Are you saying to not propose to you?"

"For now."

"Can you really afford to say no?" he asked.

"Excuse me?" she folded her arms tightly.

"I know, Rosita."

"You know what, precisely?"

"About your family drama."

She expected Spenc's expression to become smug and victorious like it did whenever he was about to humiliate and dominate a person, but the look he gave her was one of pity. She would have preferred smug and victorious. She could handle smug and victorious.

"I know your dad left your mom for another man around your age," he confessed. "And I know that you haven't accepted so much as a single credit from him since."

It was hard for her to discern the sensations she was feeling. She could literally hear the blood rushing in her ears and had to fight down the urge to vomit.

"Tuition here isn't cheap," he went on mercilessly, "Your mother had to take out a loan from the Muuns."

"How do you know all this?" she asked in a meek tone, usually one reserved for the instructors when it was needed.

His look of exasperation nearly undid her. "You know my parents would have looked into your family history once they found out about us."

"How long have you known?"

"For a while now. I didn't bring it up because I didn't want to upset you."

"But you're alright with upsetting me now because I turned down your hypothetical marriage proposal."

"It wasn't hypothetical." He rubbed at his face with a jagged sigh and said, "Look, I want you to really think long and hard about what you're turning down. I love you, and I can help you and your family."

** … **

Rosita made her way back to her room with faltering steps.

If her mother found out she just turned down an imminent marriage proposal to an heir of the Orbar fortune— well, her head just might explode.

Could she afford to say no?

At the moment, no. The RIA was one of the few military schools without a single paid program, and there was no saying how long it would take for her career to germinate, therefore there was no saying how long it would take for her to save up enough credits to pay her mother back.

The Muuns were ruthless. They collected their debts no matter what a person's circumstances.

Her poor mother, who was now working two jobs with no prospects of retirement. And all because her silly father couldn't stand up to his jealous gold-digging husband!

So, no, Rosita wouldn't take her father's credits. If he wanted to help her so badly, he would give the money to her mother, in retribution for the fifteen years she'd given to him as a dutiful wife—no matter how it made Barthum feel. And yes, marrying an Orbar really would solve all of her current problems. But at the end of the day, all she had was her pride.

She stopped in her tracks.

Thrawn stood alone in the now dimly lit common room and was looking out one of the viewports. He had his arms wound behind his back, and there was a slight tilt to his head that said he was considering something.

Off all academies, Emperor Palpatine had to choose the RIA, and of all barracks, Deenlark had to choose the Port Side. She glared at him until his back stiffened. Had he caught a scent in the air?

Thrawn turned to look over his shoulder and pierced her with his heavy-lidded eyes.

She gasped lightly. Backed against the viewport with the night behind him, she saw that his eyes did in fact glow red. She had wondered if they did the first time she'd seen them up close. In her weakened state it felt as if they beckoned to her, like air-traffic control lights—a guide through the darkness.

Unable to stomach the sight of them or the thoughts they now stirred, she broke eye contact and rushed to her room.


	4. Irithroxylace

**Chapter Four: Irithroxylace**

A loud clang, followed by, "VANTO, YOU SLIME OF A HUTT!" made Eli turn around sharply in his seat. He looked down to see Gimm on his knees, with his metal food tray and its contents scattered on the floor.

"What happened?" he asked in puzzlement.

"Your blasting bag," Gimm yelled, "Blasting tripped me!"

"But it's under my—" Eli leaned down to look under the bench and to his surprise, saw that his bag was not underneath it, but in the middle of the aisle between tables. "Oh?"

"Oh?" Gimm stood up with a snort. "You're a useless shit-pump, Vanto, and no one here likes you! Did you know that?"

"Perhaps if you watched where you were going," Thrawn began lightly, "you would not have tripped."

"Watch where I'm going?" Gimm took a deep breath through his nostrils, his face twisting in indignation. "No one with more than two brain cells would ever leave their bag in the middle of the aisle. Watch where I'm going? Why don't you mind your own blasting affairs, _**Thrawn**_?"

"I'm sorry," Eli said. "It was a mistake." He didn't understand it, he recalled placing his bag under the bench. Did Gimm do this on purpose? Did he hook his leg through the strap and pretend to trip, just so he could embarrass him? It absolutely wasn't beneath him.

"You're sorry?" Gimm sneered and raised his hands. "It's alright, everyone," he said, looking around. "Vanto's sorry." His head snapped back to Eli. "Sorry won't pick my food up off the floor. Sorry, won't make it so I don't have to head to a cantina and fetch another breakfast!"

Eli jerked back from Gimm's finger, which he held pointed right in his face.

"I have yet to touch my meal," Thrawn said softly. "You may take it in exchange for the one you dropped."

Gimm slowly turned his sneering face over to Thrawn and said in a quiet hiss, "I wouldn't take food from you. Even if I lay starving to death in a ditch." He stooped down and grasped for his now mashed shishkaberries and eggs, then slopped them back onto his plate with a disgusted scowl.

"I'm sorry," Eli repeated, only this time through barred teeth.

Once Gimm stormed off, Eli picked up his cup with shaking hands and began drinking his juice from it—that is until Thrawn grabbed him by the wrist.

Eli, labouring through his confusion, followed Thrawn's gaze down the table, to where Spenc, Gimm and their ilk sat suppressing snickers behind their hands.

Thrawn picked up his glass of water from the table and sniffed it. "We go to the infirmary," he said, standing suddenly.

"What's going on?"

Thrawn didn't answer him until they were out of the mess and down the hallway.

"I believe Gimm's accident was a diversion for someone to tamper with our drinks." He held up his glass. "The smell is faint, but noticeable in water."

"No, they wouldn't dare do—" Eli held up his index finger, as his stomach gave a sudden and very violent lurch. "I feel like I'm—" he clamped his hand over his mouth and ran to a restroom. He barely made it into a stall before he started vomiting an acidic river.


	5. A Little Advice

**Chapter Five: A Little Advice**

**1800 hours**

**The Port Side Pool **

Rosita pulled down the hems of her black one-piece jammers and made sure every hair was tucked into her black swim-cap before exiting the change room.

The pool should have been empty, what with it being supper time, and yet Thrawn and Pedra tread water together in the deep end. Pedra, unlike Rosita and Thrawn, wore no swim cap. She left her blonde curls to pour over her back in a loose wave.

'_How annoying.' _Rosita thought with a scowl._ 'I want to practice my slingshot start in privacy."_

As annoying as it was, she wasn't all that surprised to see them there. The cadets had been especially cruel to Thrawn and Vanto while in the mess where they were safe from instructor interference. Just earlier that day during breakfast Gimm ripped Vanto a new one. And deservedly so, Vanto—being the slob from Wild Space—had left his bag in the aisle and tripped him. Vanto, clearly embarrassed by the situation had skipped the day's lessons.

As for Pedra, the woman liked to bed exotics, so with Thrawn being one of the few aliens at the Academy, she tended to loiter wherever he went. Funny thing was, as progressive as Pedra claimed to be, she would never actually bring an alien back home to her family and risk losing her inheritance.

Rosita returned Pedra's greeting with a nod of the head, then continued past Vanto, who sat fully clothed at one of the tables and watched a holovid that diagrammed the Simulation Pool's caves.

Once on a starting block she secured her goggles over her eyes, got into a cocking position, then drove herself forward to dart through the water using a melodie kick. After repeating this several more times she felt ready to time her butterfly stroke and put her slingshot to the test.

She got back into position, palmed the timer on the starting block, then dove in. Everything after immersion was a concoction of instinct and control.

_Pull, up, breath, down, pull, up, breathe, down, pull, up, breath—WIN! Pull, up, breath—WIN! Faster! Faster! FASTER!_

She finished her laps and checked her time. Six whole seconds quicker than her last test, and yet still thirty-one seconds behind Spenc's record. She slapped the water with a frustrated growl and ripped off her goggles. Her shoulders and neck ached something fierce.

"Cadet Turuy."

Rosita looked over to see that Thrawn was now sitting alone on the pool's edge with a lane between them. "What?" she snapped at him.

"Cadet Vanto and I did not get the chance to thank you for the tour."

"There's no need to thank me; it wasn't voluntary."

He took a scoop of water and tipped it casually onto his shoulder. Her eyes moved to track the water's progress down the plains of his muscular chest and taut stomach—until she realized what she was doing and stopped immediately.

"You are raising your chin too far out of the water when you go to breathe," Thrawn said, apparently unfazed by her sizing him up. "This is costing you momentum."

"Is it?" she replied snidely.

"Yes. And you have too much of a bend at your elbow when your arms leave the water. You are relying on them too heavily for propulsion. They grow tired and your form suffers."

She rolled her shoulders and massaged her sore neck with a thoughtful frown.

Thrawn apparently took this as cause to continue. "You should focus your power in your chest, core and your hips. It is your kick that will generate the most speed—not your arms."

"Why are you helping me?" she asked.

"A victory between athletes is only truly—" he broke off with a small pout, clearly considering which word was best suited for his point, "Earned when every competitor is equally prepared for the match."

She wanted to argue with him, she really did, but he was right—blue and all. "You make a good point," she admitted. "To be the best you must defeat the best."

"In this case, most definitely."

She nodded carefully. "I take it Vanto will be doing the diving portion of the relay?"

"He will."

She looked over at Pedra, who sat speaking with Vanto and pointing to the hologram. "Did Pedra leave her team to be your third?"

"No. We have no third."

Rosita laughed. "You don't stand a chance then. Especially not with Vanto only studying the caves—many of us know them like the backs of our hands by now. And we only get one more chance to scale them before the race."

"We will be at a disadvantage," he agreed.

"A pretty big one if you ask me. Will you do all eight laps?"

"Yes."

"Well, it's like I said, you don't stand a chance."

"Perhaps _you_ should be our third," Thrawn suggested lightly.

Her nose scrunched up in contempt. She was about to ask him if he was touched in the head when she noticed the wry smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

He was being facetious…

"You know," she said, pulling herself together. "Studying won't be enough. Vanto needs to actually get into the water and practice the motions. Before you can even start the lane race, he will have to collect 5 medallions from each cave, and they're pretty heavy."

"Vanto is still feeling unwell from breakfast."

"Really?" she rolled her eyes. "That's pathetic. Gimm was obnoxious, sure, he always is—but Vanto was wrong to leave his bag in the middle of the aisle."

"Sometime during the meal, I believe when Gimm was making a scene, a fellow cadet contaminated our drinks with a medication used to induce vomiting. Vanto had ingested some."

She frowned in disbelief. "Do you have proof?"

"I brought my water to the infirmary; it was confirmed to be tainted."

"Will there be an investigation?"

"I believe one has already begun," he said, tilting his head as he regarded her. "Was this scheme truly unknown to you?"

Thrawn had to have known that she would deny it; it was a serious offense. He was attempting to trap her, somehow, or was at the very least attempting to suss her out for information.

Rosita drew herself up. "I would never take part in drugging someone's food, and I would stop anyone who tried," she said coldly.

He continued to stare hard at her. "I _have_ noticed you sitting away from Orbar as of late. There is animosity on your part."

"Are you implying that Spenc had anything to do with it?"

"I cannot prove it."

"So you are."

"Who do you think is responsible?"

She pursed her lips tightly. If it was Spenc who coordinated it—and it probably was—she would never say anything to help confirm it.

"You've been watching me," she said accusingly.

"From time to time," he answered, basting himself with yet another handful of water.

This time she was ready and kept her gaze trained on his. "Why?"

"You fascinate me, Cadet Turuy."

His declaration gave her pause—she must have looked like a glowing red entity in his eyes at that moment. "I fascinate you how?"

"I find your hostility towards me… amusing."

_'It wasn't meant to be amusing,'_ she thought while climbing out of the water. She looked down at him and peeled off her swim cap. "You gave me some good advice today, Thrawn, so allow me to return the favor with a warning. We don't tolerate rats here."

She turned on her heel and marched back to the change room. She needed to take a very, very hot shower.


	6. Scrubbing

**I'll try to not go Light Yagami on this shit again and DELETE! DELETE! DELETE! But in my defense, this story just had way too much plot being shoved into it and it was gearing up to become a thick, bloated mess. Chapter 7 is all brand-new content.**

**Chapter Six: Scrubbing**

Rosita was making her way back to the Port Side barracks when she passed a cantina. She stopped in her tracks, as the delectable smells of cooking food wafted its way into her nose and reminded her just how famished she was from her swim.

She almost went in to order a plate, but there was one thing she wanted more than stuffing her face with fried carbs and that was to find Spenc and confront him about his reckless and downright criminal behavior.

Honestly, it seemed like there were no lengths that man wouldn't go to persuade her to speak with him again whenever she ignored him.

Piles was in the common room, lounging on a sofa with his datapad in hand. "Where's Orbar?" she asked him.

"In the Damask Study Hall, with Gimm and some of the others."

"If you're covering for him just let me know now. I don't want to walk all the way over there for nothing."

"I'm not," he said. "Go see for yourself."

Piles wasn't lying, they really were in the Damask Study Hall. Not chortling and kneading each others' shoulders, but with their heads bowed and faces imbued with the light of their datapads. Seeing Spenc sitting there quietly with a frown of concentration on his face almost made her turn back around. Almost.

She walked up to him and rapped him smartly on the shoulder.

"Rosita," he said, perking up. "I didn't see you at dinner."

"I'd like a word," she said shortly.

"I'm a little busy at the moment," he replied, and to prove his point he turned back to his datapad.

She scoffed with impatience. "It's urgent."

He grinned his sideways grin. "If it's urgent, you can meet me by my room in an hour. I'll hear your grievances then." He tapped his chin, looking thoughtful. "Better make that thirty minutes."

Spenc was only posturing because his friends were present. She had made him so very upset by ignoring him those last couple of days and she had the messages to prove it. But now wasn't the time to humiliate him in front of his friends. "I want to talk to you here, right now, in private."

He sighed and rolled his eyes skyward. "If I fail my test tomorrow, it's your ass on the line," he said.

"Do you two actually do anal?" Gimm asked with his eyes glued to his datapad. "It's just that I've seen it and—" he looked up and mouthed, "Gape much?"

"You're disgusting," said Rosita blandly.

"It's a good question," Fleek added, turning around in his seat. "I'd like to know as well."

"If we did, you would know." She glared pointedly at Spenc.

"I don't tell them everything," he retorted.

Another cadet shushed them from a nearby table, Rosita leered at her, right as Spenc grabbed her hand and pulled her away towards the shelves of datachips.

"What in all of the galaxy were you thinking?" she rounded on him, once they were alone among the shelves.

"Come again?"

She lowered her voice to the quietest of hisses. "You tamper with people's drinks now?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She looked around to make sure they were still alone. "Good, deny it. You need to deny it. There's a line between hazing and attempted murder—a glaring one. What if they drank too much?"

Spenc shrugged, a minuscule smile moving his lips.

She shook her head in exasperation.

He looked around, making sure they were still quite alone before sneering, "What? Are you worried about poor ickle Vanto and his ickle blue cretin?"

"I'm worried about you."

His sneer softened away. "You aren't angry with me anymore?"

"I was never angry, just really annoyed. You shouldn't have dangled your money in my face the way you did."

"Is that what I was doing?" he asked folding his arms. "And here I was, thinking I was setting a date for our proposal."

"You should have told me you knew about my parents."

"I was waiting for you to step up and volunteer the information yourself. In all the time I've known you, you've dodged all conversations about your family. I had no choice but to bring it up when I did."

"Your family had no right to snoop into mine."

He rubbed his face and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'm sorry, am I exhausting you?" she asked.

He chortled and moved his hand around to rub the back of his neck. "A bit."

She glowered for a moment before sighing in resignation. "I suppose I do owe you an apology, for turning you down, but you should have just accepted my answer without becoming defensive."

"That couldn't be helped. You did sort of dash a man's hopes against a wall."

"Fair enough, but—"

"And then on top of that, you ignored me for days afterward. You wouldn't even look at me."

"You told me to think about it and so I was. I just needed some space to do so, that's why I've been avoiding you. You can be so—" she broke off with a frown.

"So what?"

She looked around and pulled him further back to a deserted annex. It was actually more like a small alcove in the wall where shelves once stood, but it was private and that's all that mattered. Spenc turned them so that she was leaning against the back wall, then came in close so he wasn't visible to anyone passing by.

"Aggressive," she said.

"You have to understand," he began quietly, "In families like mine, we tend to marry young. I just want to lock you down before someone else does, or before my parents set me up with one of their options."

"So, you really do want to marry me? This isn't some pity party?"

"Pity?" he made a face of disgust. "What's there to pity? You handle your shit and you handle it well. Rosita, you're my feminine equivalent—I've never felt so understood."

She cocked her head to the side and considered him. "We get on well, you and I, but I still don't know if I ever—"

"You don't have to answer now, we still have a little more time." He reached over and rubbed one of his hands down her hair.

She knew the look on his face only too well. "Here again? Aren't we testing our luck at this point?"

"Probably," he drawled carelessly.

"You know I can't let you inside me. Not after what you just did."

"Come on Rosita, they deserve—"

She placed her fingers over his mouth. "I won't let you in, but I'll let you see it, and as long as you remember yourself, you can leave me a present."

Spenc swallowed visibly and ran his bottom lip through his teeth. "You mean," he looked down towards her crotch. "On that?"

She nodded. "Remember? Like we used to. Before you…"

"Gave it up to you?" he supplied.

Rosita nodded, then began unbuckling her belt and unzipping her pants. She hooked her thumb in the waistband of her underwear and pulled them down and outwards, showing herself off to him.

"Kriff," he said, in a low and appreciative voice. He shook his head in disbelief and moved even closer. "Look at you."

"Take it out," she said.

He unzipped his pants and stuck one of his hands in, then after making a few quick adjustments, he was able to pull his length out.

She watched as he grasped and caressed himself, growing harder, thicker and longer. She gasped softly when he began nudging at her folds with the head, using her secretions to lube up his shaft. She licked her lips and basked in his enjoyment of her. The power in it; of holding him completely enthralled just by the sight of her.

As for Spenc, he was lost. He fisted himself and pumped, all the while he told her how pink it was, how very pretty, that all he wanted to do right then was pick her up, throw it in and impale her against the wall. The closer he got to his completion the louder he groaned. She found herself having to hold her fingers against his mouth.

"You need to hurry up and cum before someone comes this way," she warned. "Please Spenc, cum on me."

Her pleads brought him over the brink. His knees seemed to give out, forcing him to grab one of her shoulders to stay upright as he oozed his completion all over her labia and underwear. The sound he made lacked any semblance of dignity and the expression on his face was little more than an absurd distortion.

The heat of his ejaculate made her peak. Instincts several millennia-old demanded she contract and pull in his seed, in the hope of creating new life. It was a vain hope, but it felt right.

Rosita watched in captivation as he squeezed out every last drop he had on offer and shook it off onto her folds. Without breaking eye contact with him she pulled her underwear back up, buckled her belt and said, "Any more tricks you want to play on Thranto needs to be run by me first."

Spenc made a face. "Thranto?"

** … **

The next day during supper something unusual but not entirely unexpected happened. Some officers walked into the mess, one of them with a datapad in hand and the others with various cleaning supplies. The officer with the clipboard began listing off the service numbers of the cadets who were to remain behind after mealtime ended.

Rosita was one of them. In fact, everyone who sat at their table and the table in front and behind them remained, except for Thrawn and Vanto.

_'Serves us all right for sitting at the same table every day.'_ She thought with spite.

"This is it," she hissed to Spenc.

"Everyone knows what to do," he murmured back.

"We'll see."

The officers instructed them to fill the buckets with soap and water and to roll the tables off to the side.

"Make sure every inch of the place is clean enough to feed your mothers off of," The officer holding the datapad said. "You are not leaving until it is."

Rosita snorted scornfully at that. Nothing was ever clean enough for her mother.

They were given gloves, sweepers and buckets for hot soapy water, but they were not given mops. Instead, they were expected to get on their knees and scrub the floors by hand.

And so, they did.

Odd thing was, there were no instructors present to oversee them. Rosita believed they were being led into a false sense of security; one designed to help loosen their tongues for the mole. But they were seniors now, not some snot-nosed new recruits, unbroken and not loyal.

At the moment Command was the enemy and them their prisoners. They were trained for this— they were not going to talk. In silence they scrubbed. On hands and knees, they scrubbed.

Unfortunately, every squad had its weak links. Cadet Barrgs was the first to complain.

"Why are we being punished exactly?" he asked, sitting back on his haunches and wiping his brow.

"How do you not know?" Pedra said loudly. "Yesterday some idiot put Irithroxylace in Thrawn's and Vanto's drinks at breakfast. Whoever you are, you should come forward and take your punishment; we need not all suffer."

A look passed between the guilty. A silent understanding communicated in one instant. No matter what, they would stick to the plan. They would deny and deflect—nothing else. They put their eyes back down and kept scrubbing.

"Someone had to have seen something!" Pedra pressed. "To not say anything makes you just as guilty as the perpetrators."

Pedra was right, in a sense, withholding incriminating evidence of an assault was no small matter. And to make matters worse, Thrawn was promoted to Lieutenant. Rosita knew the identities of the perpetrators who assaulted an Imperial officer.

If anyone found out, she was kriffed.

No one knew why Thrawn was promoted, Pedra kept trying to convince them all that Thrawn had been given the rank from Commandant Deenlark when he first arrived, but that had to have been a lie. He wasn't allowed to just hide his insignia plaque.

No, Rosita was certain his promotion was just another ploy to scare them into talking, and she was no rat. She wasn't going to fold under the pressure of Command's psychological warfare. Everything was a test and there wouldn't be a just enough reward for turning in Spenc and her mates on behalf of an alien and Wild Spacer.

"Dibbs and Parkitt, you were sitting right in front of them, didn't you see anything?" Pedra asked.

"I keep telling you I wasn't sitting in front of them!" Parkitt said.

"Yes, you were. I saw!" she countered.

"Prove it," Dibbs said.

"Jomes was sitting around them for sure," Barrgs chimed in.

"Maybe at one point," Jomes retorted. "But I only had some milk then left to go study,"

"Did you really leave to go study?" Pedra asked accusingly. "Or did you poison them then run away?"

"Fuck off, Pedra!" Jomes warned her.

"All I can remember from yesterday's breakfast is Gimm's meltdown," someone else said.

"Who do Thrawn and Vanto say was sitting in front of them?" another asked.

"They won't say," Pedra said. "Both claim to not remember."

So, Thrawn had heeded her warning. Rosita smiled low to the ground and felt the heat of her blood pooling into her face.

"What about the cooks? Why aren't they here? They could have been responsible."

"They are civilians, I imagine they are being investigated separately."

"It was them. It had to be."

"I don't know..."

"Just shut up and clean so we can leave!" someone blurted out loudly.

"They're not going to let us leave until whoever is responsible is caught!" Pedra retorted.

"They said once we clean the place we can leave."

"You know that isn't true!" she snarled.

The longer they cleaned the more heated the debate became, until all that could be heard was the sound of griping and water being wrung out of rags into buckets.

"Is it true, Gilroy, dear?" Spenc called out across the room during a particularly long and icy silence between the cadets. "What I've been hearing about you and Fleek? You, dirty, dirty, dirty girl."

Most heads in the room looked up from their work to stare between Gimm, Fleek and Spenc.

"What you heard is a lie," Gimm said promptly.

Spenc smirked and threw his rag into a bucket. "Which part?"

"All of it. All of the rumors you've been hearing about me and Markon are lies."

"So, you've heard these rumors?" Spenc asked with a frown. "Who from?"

Gimm shrugged. "Just around," he muttered.

"I wasn't aware of anyone else knowing. I heard it from Fleek himself, and he said I'm the only other one who knows... besides you of course."

Markon Fleek stood with both hands held out to the side, staring aghast at Spenc.

Gimm spluttered for a moment once he realized he trapped himself. "I didn't... I thought you meant—"

"It's alright Gilly," Spenc said kindly. "We all have our talents."

A quiet ripple of laughter made its way around the room. Hesitant and yet with an eagerness for more information.

Gimm looked down and began to wipe the floors furiously in silence.

"Come now, I'm the one who should be annoyed," Spenc went on in mock exasperation. "You never told me you bent that way. We've been roommates for four years now and you haven't offered so much as a handy. All those lonely nights and wasted opportunities. Dirty ship, my friend. Dirty ship."

Everyone laughed. Gimm was an absolute pain to everyone he came across, so it was always nice to see him get taken down a peg. Even when it was done by the one many saw as the true source of their suffering.

And just like that the tension was broken, as the cadets now directed their questions to the newly dubbed couple. There were even some jokes thrown around about turning them in for frat charges.

Rosita met Spenc's gaze and the two of them shared a secret smile.

Once the cadets finished cleaning the mess hall to the satisfaction of the officers, they were free to go with sore knees and bent backs.

Spenc attempted to talk to Rosita on the way back to the dorms, but she cut him off with a look to convey her thoughts. _'You take care of this, Spenc Orbar, I don't care how, but you make sure it goes away. Only then will we talk.'_


	7. Stratum

**For those who've been here before, this chapter contains all new content.**

**Chapter Seven: Strathum **

**2000 hours**

**Stimulation Room**

Spenc felt Rosita shift heavily on the cushion beside him. He glanced over in time to catch her tossing her head back and folding her arms across her chest. He paused the game and turned his body so that his torso was facing her. She, however, kept her head thrown back.

"What the fuck! Unpause the game, Spenc," Boervox demanded from the other side of the hologame terminal.

He would, but first he reached over and pried Rosita's fingers from round her elbow and laid her hand against his knee, then he unpaused and continued to maneuver his holoships around Boervoxs' own.

"You said you wanted to spend time with me," he reminded her, with his eyes glued to the game. "So, what's the problem now?"

"I didn't know this was your plan for the evening," she returned. "It smells funny in here."

"What would you have us do instead?"

"We could work on our sketches for our engine prototypes," she said.

"Later, alright?"

She scoffed loudly at this, loud enough to be heard over the noise of the room, but she at least left her hand where he put it, even moved it around a bit.

"I promise," he added.

"Will we work on them in one of the study halls?" she asked.

"My room."

Her hand left his lap. Spenc sighed, closed his eyes long enough to hear Boervox whoop victoriously, and opened them to see his entire left flank in ruins. "Fuck! Alright, a study hall then," he growled, squeezing the controller so hard he thought it might break.

"We don't have to work on them, it was only a suggestion," she said tartly. "I'm surprised you want to remain on campus. Is this really how you want to kick off the weekend?"

No, it certainly wasn't. He and his mates had cancelled their original plans for the night to accommodate Rosita's newfound desire to tag along. He knew she only ditched her friends for the weekend so she could keep tabs on him—the investigation into the little incident with the drinks was making her paranoid.

He met Boervox's glance over the hologame and the two of them bit back grins.

"Why don't you call Gilroy and tell him to come here?" Spenc said.

"You're trying to pass me off on Gimm?"

"You like him, don't you?"

"Whatever." She shoved her hand into his pocket and pulled out his commlink.

That would keep her occupied until he got his fleet back in order—Boervox was mashing him up.

Sometime into her conversation with Gilroy, Rosita nudged Spenc on the shoulder and said, "He's with Laur."

"Which Laur?" he asked, his fingers dancing with the joysticks and making minor adjustments to his offensive line.

"Cruxon."

"Ah yes." His grin widened. "Tell him to bring her. You like her, don't you?"

She did apparently, as she eagerly relayed this message to Gilroy.

Spenc spared another glance up from the game when sometime later Rosita scoffed again. He turned and followed her gaze to find Gilroy and Fleek cutting through the rows of hologame terminals and their occupants.

"He's brought Fleek, not Cruxon," she said unhappily.

"And you're surprised by this?" Boervox asked, sounding perplexed.

Spenc wasn't.

"What's wrong with your face, Turuy?" Gilroy asked by way of greeting.

"What do you mean?"

"You look like you're holding a load in your mouth."

Spenc turned to look her in the face. "It's true," he laughed.

She relaxed her face but jutted her chin out aggressively. "What happened to you bringing Laur?"

"She didn't want to come," Gilroy said, and Spenc could detect a trace of defensiveness in his tone.

"You don't have to lie," replied Rosita coolly. "The secret's out of the bag now."

Both Spenc and Boervox snorted with laughter.

"Get it all out of your systems," Gilroy growled. "I'm done hearing it."

"Relax Gilly." Spenc grinned and swiped his hands over the holo, making more drastic changes to his formation. "No one cares that you're an assdigger—It's only the fact that you try and hide it that makes us laugh."

Well, this was true for him at least. He had suspected Fleek was one for years and it seemed no coincidence that every time Gilroy hit a dry spell with the ladies he would start sniffing around Fleek.

"Let's go have drinks at Stratum," said Rosita suddenly.

"Stratum's always a good time," Fleek said. "I'm down."

Before Spenc even realised what Rosita was doing, she had flipped the power switch for the hologame and sprung to her feet.

"Damnit, Turuy!" Boervox bellowed. "What's wrong with your head?"

"Nothing," she answered promptly. "We should all go change first, we can't go in our uniforms."

"What do you mean?" Gilroy asked. "We can. You have any idea how effective these things are out there?" he tugged at his shirt. "Civilian bitches go crazy for this shit."

She ignored him. "Will you wait for me to change, Spenc?"

He stood and appraised her. Her hair was all pulled back neatly in a tight bun and she wore her shirt with the buttons done all the way to the top.

"I like you like this," he began thoughtfully. "All done up." He pinched the collar of her shirt and tugged at it a bit, thinking of how he would take her apart later, then to his immense pleasure she sidled up to him with a helpless grin.

And just like that, the problem was solved. They called his driver and sped down to Stratum in their uniforms.

** … **

They bypassed the line entirely by slipping in the back and going down the service corridor, past the service lifts and through a door with the sign: _Service Personnel Only_.

Stratum was shaped like a smokestack. Floating platforms were embedded into the walls in regular intervals, each complemented with its own bar, a lively dancefloor, and some form of VIP section to separate the milk from the cream.

The higher one went up, the more exclusive the VIP sections were. But when everyone looked up, no matter what level they were on, or whether they were rich or poor, they would all see the same cap: a gleaming black ceiling that hid the real VIP section on the other side.

That was where they were—on the other side.

Spenc found Rosita on her knees, palms down on the tinted durasteel, peering down at the dancers below their feet.

"I need to go back down there," he said.

"Why?" she asked.

"To meet with Piles and some others."

She took his offered hand and he helped her to her feet.

"Don't be long." She warned him with a kiss and let him go on his way.

Piles had told Spenc to meet him and his girlfriend, Flora, way down on level one. He found them conversing with the Nateel twins and a group of girls that appeared to be comprised of every possible colour combination.

He usually couldn't tell the Nateels apart from a distance, but because they weren't in uniform, he knew the one in the solid blue shirt was Azeus, and the one in the shirt with way too many colours and conflicting patterns could only be Glouson.

"Why are you way down here?" Spenc asked them.

"Because," Azeus began lightly, "There's a certain level of desperation down here."

"We want a taste of that tonight," Glouson added.

"A taste huh?" Spenc rubbed the back of his neck and chortled.

"You're Spenc Orbar, right?" one of the girls asked.

He nodded.

"We're RIA too."

"All of you?" he asked looking doubtful.

"No, just me and Tash." She gestured to the girl beside her. "I'm Leisha by the way."

"Beigen and Pricilla here are visiting from off-planet," Glouson said of the girls in his arms.

"Are you and Turuy still together?"

Spenc turned his attention back to Leisha. "Yeah."

"Where is she?"

"Waiting upstairs."

"Oh, nice," she said. "You two have been together so long now."

"Not very long," he corrected her. "Four years—on and off."

"That's long."

He shrugged. Maybe. It didn't feel that way. Rosita knew exactly how to play at being hurt.

A woman came out of nowhere, not like the others, with her plain tunic pant set. She slunk around them, far too close for comfort. "Do you need anything?" she asked. "I have the cleanest stuff you'll find."

Spenc laughed at the randomness of it. "What?"

She pulled out a small bag of white pills from her pocket. "You're from the Royal Imperial Acadamy, right? Or are the uniforms just for show?"

"We are," Spenc said.

"So then you might be comforted to know that this," she shook the bag in his face, "Is in the breast pockets of Coruscant's elite… when they're so inclined to partake."

"Oh yeah, like who?" Azeus asked.

"Politicians," the dealer replied. "High Command officials. Moffs, even."

"And what makes you think our parents know what's good from what's shit?" Glouson asked.

Spenc chortled at that. "An excellent question," he said.

The dealer looked confused. "Why not try and see for yourselves?" she asked. "Only 30 credits a pop."

"I'll pass," Spenc said, patting his stomach.

"I'm down," Glouson said, handing her enough money to receive several little pills.

"You better not fail another drug test," Azeus said.

Glouson waved his twin's concerns away. "And now ladies," he said jovially. "It's time for selection. Which ones of you are worthy enough to go all the way up to the summit?" he pointed a finger up to the ceiling.

Gilroy had left Fleek on the couch with Rosita the moment they had came through the sliding doors. Spenc passed him on his way over and returned his smirk with a roll of the eyes. Behind him, he heard Glouson greet Gilroy loudly, the two were basically the same person.

Rosita moved aside so there was room for him to slide up next to her on the couch. It wasn't until he sat down that he noticed the two RIA girls had followed him over and took the other couch to his right. He clasped his fingers behind his head and leaned back into them.

"You two look familiar," Rosita said, pointing between the two of them.

"You led our tour group at the start of the term," Leisha said.

"First years?" Rosita glanced over at him, an amused and, dare he say, hungry little smile on her face. "What are you both taking?"

"Communications, with a minor in alien dialect," Tash said.

"How useful," Rosita drained her glass and set it on the table in front of them. "We need a way to understand these creatures when on the field."

Spenc grinned.

"What about you?" Leisha asked.

"I'm in the weapon engineering program, and I'm minoring in interrogative intelligence," Rosita replied.

"Oh, that's really cool, but I meant Spenc," Leisha turned to him. "What are you taking, Spenc?"

He felt Rosita tense slightly. "Weapon engineering, with a minor in communications."

"Communications, like us!" Leisha cried.

"Just like." He turned to Rosita. "Come dance."

"Go get me another drink first, I want to talk to…" she trailed off, looking inquiringly at the two girls.

"I'm Leisha," Leisha said dully. "And this is Tash."

"Leisha and Tash," she told him, lounging back in the cushion.

"I'll go get you your drink," was his response.

After making his delivery, Spenc took Rosita down a few levels and around the dance floor—he preferred to dance off to the side, away from the lights and other people.

When they found a good private spot against the railing, he slid behind her and began grinding into her at his leisure. She eventually leaned back into him so she could say in his ear, "I don't think we're going to be making sketches tonight."

"I had a feeling," he said back in hers.

Rosita's body vibrated with laughter as she took a deep sip of her drink, then she turned to lean her back against the rails, propping both elbows up at her sides and saying something he couldn't quite catch over the music.

Not that it mattered, he got in close so he could enjoy the feel of her pelvic region rolling to the tune of the melody, and murmured the words of the song into her hair.

** … **

All in all, it had been a good night. The only thing left to do now was go back to the barracks, take Rosita back to his room and bid her a proper goodnight.

By the time they stumbled into the common room, it was empty, or so he thought. Spenc was about to tug her in the direction of the stairwell when he caught sight of Thrawn sitting alone at one of the desks, huddled over his datapad with a touchpen.

His lip curled at the sight and he thought, '_Nearly 3am on a weekend, and he's what? Studying?'_

He felt a sharp prick to his chest and wrenched his gaze away to stare at Rosita. Her face was dewy with sweat, her hair was a disaster, and her lips were now swollen from their ride back.

"You want to go over there so badly," she teased.

"I was only looking," he clasped her hand and removed her finger from his chest.

"You better be," she warned.

He questioned her authority on the matter as she swayed back a few steps. He grabbed her elbow to help steady her, only to have her fall forward and mash her face into his chest.

"Time for bed, I think."

"My bed," she demanded huffily.

"Won't that make your roommate angry? You're not exactly quiet."

"Not for that. I need sleep. I feel sick."

"I know, I meant—" He cut himself off. "Nevermind. Let's go wake Kalin."

As Spenc expected, the lights flickered to life on Kalin's side of the room the moment they walked in.

"Rosita!" she called out hoarsely. "You promised!"

"Relax," he began tightly, "We'll only be a minute." He held Rosita up under the armpits. The alcohol had caught up with her quite suddenly now.

"It's not fair," Kalin went on, coming around the privacy wall in just her briefs and undershirt. "You know I'm a light sleeper. I get that you guys want to go out and blow off some steam, I really do, but I have to get up really—"

"Would you prefer it if I brought her back to my room like this?" he cut across her. "Because that's always an option."

She took a good look at Rosita and her mouth snapped shut.

"That's what I thought. Now, why don't you come help me get her to bed so I can leave faster."

"Can you both keep it down," Rosita groaned. "You're making me want to puke. Kalin, sorry. Spenc, bring me to my powder room and leave."

He didn't need telling twice. He left her on the toilet and made a hasty escape.

Thrawn was still in the common room. Spenc could only assume that he was working on his sketch for the engine prototype assignment. He very much wanted to see what he was drawing and the alcohol he ingested earlier helped fuel his entitlement to do so.

He stopped on the other side of the table facing him.

"Look at you, busy at it." He couldn't quite see the screen because of the way Thrawn was huddled over it, but he could see the sketch was of something larger than an engine.

"Yes," Thrawn said lowly.

"You're not tired?" Spenc asked, as he leaned over and slid the datapad across the table and picked it up. Looking down, he saw the sketch was a prototype of a ship. Its dimensions put it to scale with Incom Corporation's T-65 X-Wing Starfighter—according to the diagram's legend—but its shape was that of a triangle? He turned the datapad around to look at it from upside down and rubbed a hand down his face to smooth out the frown there.

"What's this?"

"My prototype."

"You're only supposed to create an engine."

Thrawn was a dullard; all he could do was stare at him with his ugly red eyes.

Spenc snorted and placed the datapad back on the desk, screen down. "You might want to get some rest, Sir. You don't want to over do it." He slid it back over, thinking if he was lucky, he might've left some scratches.


	8. This is my Blaster

**Chapter Eight: This is my Blaster**

The cadets sat grouped together on a shuttle heading towards the Hallowed Grounds Artillery Center on Chandrila, their blaster rifles all tucked away in the ship's undercarriage, waiting for them to prove their worth.

Rosita sat between Payden Dibbs and Kalin Muanung, in front of them sat Spenc, Gimm and Piles.

"You three are going to have to face the facts on this one," Spenc was saying. "You can't win the swim race with an all-girls team."

"None of us are girls though," Muanung stated matter-of-factly.

"Women, females, whatever—you simply don't have enough power," he returned.

Rosita crossed her arms. "Here we go again," she muttered.

"If you think you can beat me at the butterfly stroke you are delusional," Spenc said with what he must have thought was an apologetic shrug but in reality, made him look ridiculously arrogant.

"Look at my shoulders and back." He twisted in his seat and tried his best to show them off. "Look at my waist, better yet, look at my overall physique. I have the perfect swimmer's build." He turned back around. "Now look at Piles here, if you think Dibbs can beat him at freestyle—" he broke off and looked between the two of them. "On second thought, she might actually have a chance. You're a beast, Dibbs," he finished with a touch of respect.

"Thanks?" Dibbs frowned.

He nodded in acknowledgment. "Still, Maverly and Hatseen will be a challenge for you, they are for Piles as well. Ladies, you need to make the trade."

Rosita turned to Dibbs and Muanung, and the three of them pretended to consider the offer with great thought.

"Sorry, I think it's still a no," said Muanung flatly.

Spenc ignored her. "Rosita, you're fast, I'll give you that, but your best time is still one minute under my own, and I've only been getting faster."

"Thirty seconds now. I've been getting faster as well."

He rolled his eyes. "Take Gilroy, he's our diver, sure, but he's dependable at the butterfly, you keep Dibbs on freestyle, Muanung you come to be my diver and Rosita, you do the dive for your team. You will have a chance to win this way."

"Tempting," Rosita said. "But no."

"You're being—

"We like our team the way it is," she cut across him.

"Just leave it be, mate," Gimm said, nudging Spenc with his elbow. "I don't want to be traded onto their shitty team anyway."

Spenc ignored him. "You do want to win, don't you?" he asked, looking them each in the face.

"Yes," they replied in unison.

"And you, Rosita, you want to win without me, right?"

"You can't have Muanung, Spenc," Rosita replied. "She's the best diver we have this term. She's one of the best divers, period."

"I've been doing freediving competitively since I was ten," Muanung said. "I'm a multi-gold medalist."

"He knows that," Rosita said, with a bite of impatience. "He's just trying to make me doubt myself so I give you over and help stack his team. Gimm? Really? For Muanung? Do you take me for a complete idiot?"

Spenc looked offended. He parried back, "Are you afraid you can't beat her, is that the problem?"

"Yes, that's the problem on the head," Rosita said incredulously. "I'm not worried about any of you _big strong men."_ She laced those last three words with a hearty dose of simpering. "I know I'm not as fast as many of you—but I'm not slow either—and Dibbs and I will have one hell of a head start because of Muanung."

"You're taking a huge risk."

"Why are you so concerned about my team? Worry about your own."

"If you lose, I lose," Spenc answered. "Because I'll never hear the end of it from you. You'll sulk for weeks."

Gimm and Piles snickered. They were annoying.

"I gave you my answer," Rosita returned calmly. "I don't know why I'm even talking to you right now. Have you handled that other thing yet?"

"I told you it's being taken care of," he said through clenched teeth. "You know, I was only trying to be nice. I just wanted to make sure you had a fair shot at winning, but if you're keen on carrying out this little social experiment I won't stop you."

"If you want us to win so badly why don't you just swim a little slower?" Rosita suggested hotly.

"Yeah, Orbar, throw the race for us," Dibbs drawled.

Rosita, Muanung, and Dibbs all snickered, as did some other cadets within earshot.

"Being nice doesn't exactly come naturally to you, Orbar," Muanung said snidely, "So excuse us for being suspicious of your intentions."

"I wasn't trying to be nice to **_you_**," Spenc said, narrowing his eyes at her. "Only Rosita."

"My point exactly," Muanung said. "Is he ever actually nice to you, Turuy?"

"Mostly in private," she replied with a hapless smile. "Still though, my answer is no. I like my chances and I like my team." she looked away from Spenc and down the aisleway, Thrawn's head was turned slightly towards them. He was listening in on their conversation, she could tell.

"_Cadets,"_ a woman's voice said over the shuttles PA system, _"We will be arriving at the Hallowed Grounds Artillery Center within the next thirty minutes, once we disembark you will be given your rifles and will continue to the testing site on foot. Your blaster's safety should be on at all times. If anyone is caught with a live weapon at any time but for their shoot, they will fail and face further disciplinary action. Thank you and good luck."_

** … **

The cadets ran in ranks of three with their rifles in hand, while Squadron Leader Rane led them in a military cadence.

The one part of me I'll never forget," he sang.

THE ONE PART OF ME I'LL NEVER FORGET!" they parroted back in one large voice.

"Has a black stock and barrel, scope's lined and set."

"HAS A BLACK STOCK AND BARREL, SCOPE'S LINED AND SET!"

"I keep its metal clean and shinned."

"I KEEP ITS METAL CLEAN AND SHINNED!"

"So the enemy knows, better go hide."

"SO THE ENEMY KNOWS, BETTER GO HIDE!"

"I point my blaster the right way."

"I POINT MY BLASTER THE RIGHT WAY!"

"And wait for Command to give the say."

"AND WAIT FOR COMMAND TO GIVE THE SAY!"

"Run, run, running keeps the body strong."

"RUN, RUN, RUNNING KEEPS THE BODY STRONG!"

"They can't run from us and we're never wrong."

"THEY CAN'T RUN FROM US AND WE'RE NEVER WRONG,"

"Get some."

"GOT SOME!"

"Feel good?"

"TOOK ONE."

"Wait a minute."

"WON'T STOP!"

"Let them run?

"MAKE THEM DROP!"

They sang until coming upon the Hallowed Grounds Artillery Center's testing site.

Rosita was surprised and delighted to see that Commandant Deenlark was in attendance. He was waiting with some officers donned in the uniforms of the Imperial Army. Marksmanship was one of her specialties; it would be a chance to prove herself.

Introductions were made and then Deenlark took his place on the course in front of them.

"On this day one of testing," he began in a long carrying voice, "You will begin by firing at several still targets from a fixed position. You get thirty pulls, Cadets. Fifteen in position one and fifteen in position two."

After they were given a short demonstration of what was required of them, one of the officers handed Deenlark a datapad. He looked down at it before yelling, "AB0789213, you're up!"

Abewalker stepped forward and took position.

The pressure to do well was mounting, especially since Thrawn's and Vanto's arrival. The instructors found it motivational to compare their performances with that to theirs. And there was no greater humiliation than being bested by Thrawn—worse yet, in her opinion, when it was done by Vanto.

But she wouldn't be bested. Marksmanship was hers. Thirty pulls at fixed targets? This was going to be a breeze. It was a beautiful thing, the E-11. They came just the way Rosita liked to handle them: big, black, rigid and a bit of menace. This rifle—serial number V86712AA43R— was issued to her on her third day at the Academy, and ever since then she had cared for it and loved it like a child, so far it had done mother proud; what was one more test?

She took a deep breath right as Deenlark called for GI276342.

Gidrome went forward, stiff jawed and purposeful.

She took in another deep breath.

"GI141387, you're up!"

Gimm ended up doing remarkably well, his final score lit up to reveal a ninety-one percent hit rate, sixty-eight percent of which were direct kill shots. Spenc's hit rate clocked in at eighty-eight percent with seventy-one percent of them being kill shots. He pulled his visor up and winked at Rosita in passing.

She took in another deep breath.

The O's became P's, then Q's and by the time Deenlark called for RU4632109, Rosita's sweaty fingers drummed anxiously against her rifle's stock. Was the air getting thicker or was it just her?

"Lieutenant Thrawn, you're up."

Her hand slid down the barrel some, her top lip curling. _'Lieutenant Thrawn,' _she thought with hate. Deenlark had used everyone's service number to call upon them, except for when it came time for Thrawn, it was as if he wished to drive the point home. If Deenlark liked the Chiss, he wasn't doing him any favors.

She watched Thrawn take position one, squaring off to the target then firing. By the looks of it he absorbed the kick with little push-back from the recoil, and when he finished, he made a beautifully fluent change to the fighting stance before firing again.

The end result lit up. One-hundred percent of his rounds hit a mark. Of those hits, exactly seventy-five percent of them were kill shots, exactly seventy-five percent. How? This left twenty-five percent of his targets alive for questioning. A lovely even quarter.

In her opinion, he had a perfect round. Too perfect to not be intentional. She bet in her mind that he probably could have made them all kill shots if he wanted to.

"Well done, TH6719385," Squadron Leader Rane said.

It wasn't long now before Commandant Deenlark barked,"TU4576310, you're up."

Rosita stepped forward, her heart was pounding and her hands were shaking. Not good. Why was everyone standing so close? For some reason, the only thing she could think about was Thrawn's perfect score. She was supposed to get perfect, not him.

She got into position and tried to steady her hands but everything felt awkward, like she had never held a blaster before in her life.

Deenlark was watching, as were several other high-ranking officers. She saw him look down at his datapad and lean over to say something to the officer beside him. Almost as if in slow motion. What were they saying? Was her stance alright?

She thought she could see Thrawn's blueness in her peripheral.

"Whenever you're ready, Cadet Turuy," Squadron Leader Rane said none too kindly.

How long had it been since she first stepped up there? A minute? Five minutes? She shook her head to clear it and looked down her trembling sight. When she pulled the trigger it was blind, she must have checked out and bought herself a front-row seat ticket to the failure show.

Rosita couldn't quite recall taking position two but, in the end, like for all the others, her score lit up. Nineteen percent hit rate—zero percent kill shots.

There was silence all around her. Worse than the smattering of laughter laid onto those who put on bad performances by getting between fifty and sixty percent hit rates. She stood there stunned.

Nineteen percent! She might as well have gotten zero.

She let out a weak moan between her compressed lips. A pitiable sound—quiet and unavoidable. It was the sound she made whenever Spenc surprised her from behind by sticking the tip of his thumb up her asshole.

Deenlark looked down at his datapad. "It says here, Cadet TU4576310, that you are majoring in the weapon's engineering program, with a minor in interrogative intelligence."

"Yes, Sir."

"How do you expect to design and manufacture useful weapons without having first mastered the use of a blaster rifle?"

Rosita knew better than to answer.

"Am I to believe that you've simply forgotten your training, Cadet?" he came in close and she stood up further at attention. "Or are you simply defective?" he asked.

She swallowed. "Yes, Sir!"

"Yes?"

"No! Sorry, I meant, No, Sir!" _'What the fuck is happening?' _she thought mortified.

"Recite the creed." Deenlark stepped back and stared hard at her.

There was a second, just one second, where Rosita considered turning her blaster and stuffing the nozzle into her mouth, instead, she took a deep breath and begun to recite the oath she had sworn the day of her blaster rifle's issuance.

*"This is my blaster," she began in a low monotonous voice. "There are many like it, but this one is mine. My blaster is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life. Without me, my blaster is useless. Without my blaster, I am useless. I must fire my blaster true. I must shoot straighter than my enemy who is trying to kill me. I must shoot them before they shoot me. I will."

Feeling heartened her voice began to rise and carry. "My blaster and I know that what counts in war is not the rounds we fire, the noise of our blast, nor the smoke we make. We know that it is the hits that count. We will hit. I will keep my blaster clean and ready, even as I am clean and ready. We will become part of each other. We will."

She took a deep breath and finished, "Before the Stars, I swear this creed. My blaster and I are the defenders of his empire. We are the masters of our enemy. We are the saviors of my life. So be it, until victory is the empire's and there is no enemy but peace!"*

By the end of her declaration, Rosita's back was fully erect and her chin held high. She imagined every other cadet behind her was the same. It got her every single time.

Deenlark's expression softened slightly, she saw in his eyes the same pride that she felt and hoped that he would go easy on her. But this was Deenlark, what did he know about taking it easy?

"Cadet Turuy, you will go to the range with Cadet Thrawn, whose performance has proven that he might have the ability to teach you how to aim and fire your weapon." He looked up and over her. "And anyone else who manages to perform as dismally will come and join you."

The ultimate humiliation.

She avoided everyone's gaze as she and Thrawn broke off from the group.

** … **

Rosita watched Thrawn place his blaster rifle on one of the stands for safekeeping before he turned around to face her.

"You should know," she said, looking away from him and down her sight, "I don't usually have trouble with this. I was just in my head back there. After I missed the first few shots I panicked."

"You placed unnecessary pressure on yourself," he said.

"I have a lot on my mind at the moment."

"Such as?"

She turned to stare at him and scrunched up her nose.

"I was tasked with correcting your technique," he said. "If you believe your errors stem from intrusive thoughts, then perhaps it would help us both for you to get them off your chest and ease your troubled mind."

"Fine," she said, lowering her weapon. "How about we start with why you were recently promoted."

"I was given Lieutenancy upon my arrival."

She snorted in disbelief. "So you got here and Deenlark thought to himself, you know what, I like Thrawn's face, let me make him a lieutenant for doing absolutely nothing." She paused as she was hit with a sudden wave of realization. "It was a gift from Emperor Palpatine, wasn't it?"

"It was given to me by Commandant Deenlark—as a test."

_'Everything is a test.'_ Rosita thought automatically, then she softened in understanding. "What sort of test?" she asked.

"One to help inspire creativity and ingenuity in the other cadets."

She laughed. "So, you were hiding your insignia plague, because you were afraid we would resent you for it?"

"I was waiting for an opportune moment to use it."

"Of course, you were," she jeered sardonically.

He blinked languidly and said, "Is there anything else you would like to get off your chest?"

Rosita wanted to ask him how the investigation was going but knew it would only look suspicious to show any interest; he had to have known she didn't care about his well being or that of Vanto.

"Ever since you got here," she began, "The instructors have all had eyes for you, and now Deenlark, who I've been trying to get to notice me for the last four years saw me choke. I bet he wouldn't even have been here if it wasn't for you."

"You remain green and have not yet experienced battle."

"Not, a real battle, no, but I've had my fair share of physical altercations."

"Physical altercations," Thrawn smirked as if to say, how cute. "There is no guarantee of what complications will arise in battle. If you require peace of mind for a steady aim you will not fare well in a fight to the death."

"You sound like my grandfather."

"Was he the one who taught you how to shoot?"

"Going off what you've seen of my skills you must mean that as an insult."

"It would appear that way," he said. "but I meant no offense. I am merely curious."

"He was," she said. "And what about you, have you experienced battle before? Real battle?"

"Yes."

"And have you killed sentients?"

"I have," Thrawn confirmed with a small bow of his head. "Does this appeal to you?"

"I don't know what you mean to ask, exactly, but if you're asking if I would I kill, then the answer is yes."

His head tilted head at that.

"I mean, if I was forced to. For the good of the Empire," she added hastily.

It was hard to say just what he was smirking about this time.

"Did I say something amusing?" she asked.

"You misunderstood my question and its intent."

She frowned deeply in thought. "So then, you wish to know what I find appealing, is that it?"

"Did I not say you fascinate me?"

He was bold, she would give him that. She drew herself up, feeling a bizarre mix of disgust and intrigue.

"Perhaps it would be best if we focused on the task at hand," he suggested. "Get into position one and show me what you can do in a more relaxed setting."

Rosita obeyed, this time her hands were not trembling and she was fully present, so her blasts hit the humanoid-shaped target. The alloy absorbed the plasma beams and caused a chemical reaction that turned the target red wherever hit.

"See?" she said, as the target was now lit up with red spots.

"I see room for improvement when it comes to your form."

Her head snapped in his direction. "Oh, really?"

"Your stance is too wide. Do you find your rifle too heavy?"

"No!" she exclaimed. "It's just… more comfortable this way."

"It might have been too heavy for you once," Thrawn theorized. "And now you have made a habit of overcompensating with your lower body. This is natural for those lacking in upper body strength. It is better than leaning backwards as I have seen done, or worse, the locking of the knees."

"I am not lacking in upper body strength."

"There is no shame in it, Cadet Turuy. Your legs more than makeup for it."

"How do you know that?"

"I have seen them in action," he replied, circling her to make tiny corrections. First, by testing her grip. "Tight," he said approvingly when he was unable to pry her fingers any from the stock. Then by tapping her heels with the toe of his boot, until she closed her stance to his liking.

"Do you Chiss eat humans?"

"No," he said, and if the question exasperated him he didn't show it.

"You've been sizing me up a lot. I was just wondering if you had plans to eat me or something."

"I can assure you; the thought has not yet crossed my mind."

_'Yet?' _she thought, biting the inside of her lip.

Thrawn moved to stand behind her and lifted her right elbow up with the tips of his fingers. "Push your hips back a little further, this will allow the bend of your knees to come more naturally."

"I'm curious," she said. "Do you make a habit of checking us all out, or only me?"

"Your mind is teeming with assumptions," he said, coming back around to face her.

"Teeming with questions," she corrected him. "It always is. And you don't have to answer if you don't want to. In fact, I would rather not know now that I think about it."

He touched her chest with his index finger and drew a straight parallel line under the barrel of her rifle, then followed her line of sight.

"I would never overstep my bounds," he assured her with a critical frown on his face.

"That would be a little more reassuring if I knew what your boundaries were."

"As of now," Thrawn began while lifting her chin a smidgen. "I am bound by a code of conduct that is becoming of a future Imperial soldier."

His gloves felt stiff and warm against her chin. For a moment there was nothing for them to do but stare at each other through their visors.

"There." He stepped back to admire his handiwork. "Perfection."

"Perfection," she repeated drawing out the syllables. "I do love that word."

"It suits you at the moment."

She cleared her throat. "Yes, well…" She pulled the trigger for a cluster of plasma to fly out of the nozzle and light up the target's head red. She ate the kick a bit more with his new stance, but maybe he was right, it would only make her stronger.

"Didn't I tell you?" she said, unable to restrain a smug grin.

"You can shoot," he agreed indulgently. "With fieldwork will come experience and with experience you will learn to not collapse under pressure."

She nodded and said, "Now you. I'd like to see that form of yours up close."

"First assume position two, once I correct all the errors in your stance then I will oblige you."

* * *

**'The Rifleman's Creed' which Deenlark had Rosita recite was written by Major General William Rupertus, who wrote it sometime after the bombing of Pearl Harbor.** It is now used by the US Marines. I made a few alterations and deleted a few lines, most notably I removed that crucial comma at the end. In the original, it says "…until victory is America's and there is no enemy, but peace!" I changed it to "until victory is the Empire's and there is no enemy but peace." The Imperial Empire is, at its core evil and so their final enemy would be peace because their economy is fueled by war.


	9. Stirrings

**Chapter Nine: Stirrings**

**Chandrila**

**Hallowed Grounds Artillery Center**

**Shooting Range**

Rosita stood beside Thrawn and the two of them peppered a target together with so much plasma it glowed a uniform red. Dusk loomed heavily above them and rusted the smoke from their blaster rifles.

It felt good to just hold the trigger and spray out all her frustrations. Unfortunately, nothing that could feel so good could last forever. A loud blaring horn echoed out, she released the trigger and looked up and around, following the sound.

"That marks the end of testing," she said. "We should make our way back."

"We were given orders to come here but none for when to return." Thrawn lowered his weapon.

"True." She frowned. "I'd rather stay here, to be perfectly honest with you; I'm not looking forward to—" she cut herself off.

He activated his rifle's safety, looking expectantly at her, to what, finish sharing?

"Can you not stare at me like that?"

He smirked in amusement, or was it understanding? "My apologies," he replied softly.

"Whatever," she muttered, feeling the heat in her face.

"Today's test only accounts for fifteen percent of the final score. It is the judgment of our fellow cadets that you fear."

"Yes, obviously. They will be relentless."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not."

"Perhaps not?" she snorted in disbelief. "You of all people should know we aren't the most… understanding group of individuals."

Tactful as ever, Thrawn chose to remain silent.

"Everyone was expecting me to do perfectly." She dug the toe of her boot into the ground and pursed her lips.

"And you are certain of this?" he asked.

"I have always excelled at marksmanship."

"It matters to you, what they think."

"Of course," she said in exasperation. "Don't you care?"

"It is very limiting," was his reply.

She considered that, tilting her head from one shoulder to the other. "I suppose, in a way," she said, then lifted her blaster, aimed and began shooting at their target again, to keep it red. "If only there was a way to go back in time," she sighed raggedly.

"There are still 48 hours left of testing. Perhaps you will redeem yourself."

Her head snapped back in his direction. "Perhaps," she agreed, drawing herself up with a small smile. _'Too bad you're an alien,' _she found herself thinking.

The sound of speeder thrusters rented the air, saving her from whatever demented fantasies her mind was attempting to invoke.

Rosita and Thrawn both turned to face a pair of speeder bikes heading down the path towards them. Judging by their uniforms, the drivers were cadets, their helmet's lightly tinted visors covered their upper faces but she knew that dark chin with the dimple in the middle belonged to Spenc, which meant that pointed one on the speeder next to him belonged to Gimm.

They pulled in and stopped in front of them.

"We volunteered to come and rescue you!" Spenc yelled over the noise of the thrusters.

"Look at her hide behind it," Gimm leered loudly, standing and leaning over the handlebars.

"I'm not hiding." Rosita stepped around Thrawn. "They gave you speeders?"

Spenc and Gimm turned them off and swung their legs over to come down.

"Of course," Spenc said, grabbing her free hand and pulling her forward towards his.

"Easy," she warned, activating her rifle's safety.

"So," Gimm began with a frown, "Nineteen percent—that's not very good. I do hope you're not on my team tomorrow."

"It was but one hiccough in an otherwise excellent track record—so fuck off!"

"What happened?" Spenc asked frowning. "It was brutal, having to watch you shoot around the targets like that. Were your eyes closed?"

"No, I wasn't shooting with my eyes closed," she retorted matter-of-factly. "Don't worry, I'll do better tomorrow."

"You had better. It's the War Game, this isn't one you want to fail." He finished and looked up over the top of her helmet and sneered, "Why are you still here? Get gone, **_sir_**."

"Spenc," she said quietly under her breath. "Can't you just—"

"—Can't I just what?" he cut across her.

"Never mind," Rosita turned to watch Thrawn make his way up the path and shook her head, at him, and his seemingly limitless supply of patience. If she were a lieutenant and a cadet dismissed her that way, she would have made damn sure they were put firmly back into place, whether he was an Orbar or not.

"Climb on after me," Spenc said, gesturing to his speeder bike with a thrust of his head. "We'll take a quick ride before heading up to the mess."

Rosita retracted her rifle's stalk and stowed it in the back compartment before climbing on behind him. When they swerved around Thrawn, she made sure to turn around and salute him—he was an officer, after all.


	10. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

**Chapter Ten: One Step Forward, Two Steps Back**

**Chandrila **

**Hallowed Ground Artillery Center**

**Game Yard**

For Thrawn the rules were simple, it was a scenario as old as civilization itself:

Team Native was to defend their territory against the opposing team—Team Apex—whose main objective was to collect three cases that represented the "planet's" precious metals, freshwater, and its population's fealty. Team Apex had a single base where they were to guard Native prisoners. Team Native's main objective was to free these prisoners and neutralize all opposition in their path.

If by the end of the 48-hour stretch both teams had failed their main objective—be that not freeing the prisoners or collecting all three cases—then the winner would be determined by whichever team had the most kills.

Thrawn dug his gloved fingers in the bark of a tree and pulled himself up further into its canopy, having heard footsteps approaching. Quiet—in stealth mode, each step carefully calculated and each exhale carefully measured. He closed his eyes and listened. A single target, about sixty yards away. A scout, in search of a case's location.

When the wind blew through the leaves of the trees, he used the sound to disguise the noise of him swinging around the trunk to get a better position.

His target wore the red armband of Team Apex. She half crouched within some shrubbery, took a holoprojector from out of her pocket and brought up a holomap of the game yard.

He turned to lean his back against the trunk, raising his simulation blaster rifle—she was definitely not aware of his presence—yet. He found her in his scope, lined her helmet up for the shot, hesitated, then lowered the nozzle to aim at her vest before pulling the trigger.

Harmless blue beams pelted her vest; it would only take six hits she had taken four. Her loud curse came out distorted from the mask. He slid down the tree and gave chase.

Thrawn shot every so often, herding her in the right direction. The helmets they wore could only take one hit. Once hit, the helmet and the vest would turn red, rendering the player dead.

They came to the edge of a gully; he had effectively trapped her. She ducked out of sight behind the base of one of the trees and returned fire from behind it.

His vest vibrated once. He smirked in good humor; she had licked him with a stray beam. He threw the strap of his rifle over his shoulder and scaled a tree—quick as a whip—keeping her in sight the entire time. Once high and in position, he aimed for her head.

Her vest and helmet lit up red. She was dead. The first kill of the day. Thrawn felt a vibration on his wristcomm, he looked down at it and read: TH6719385TU4576310.

The helmets they wore covered their faces entirely, she took hers off and knelt down on the spot as the rules stated she must.

He jumped down from the tree's lowest branch and stood to face her from a distance. "It is you," he said, frowning deeply behind his visor.

Cadet Turuy's face snapped up from her wristcomm. "Thrawn?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes."

"You have got to be kidding me!" she snarled.

He took a few steps closer, shoulder arming his rifle. "You would take this personally?"

She barred her teeth at him, warning him to not come any closer.

"You would," he said, feeling a stab of disappointment.

"I'm forbidden to speak," she reminded him through her clenched teeth.

This was true, the rules did state that once a player was killed, they were to remain where they were, in perfect silence, until the test was over.

Thrawn nodded solemnly, then slunk into the trees to continue guarding the case that represented the planets' precious metals. Cadet Turuy had come close to finding it.


	11. Teamers

"Let's go with your chicken!" – Khabib Nurmagomedov

**Chapter Eleven: Teamers**

**0900 hours**

**Simulation Pool**

"Is it happening?"

Spenc stretched an arm across his bare chest and pressed down hard on his shoulder. "Yes," he said, rolling his deltoid. "They agree it's fair."

"Who said anything about it having to be fair?" Gilroy sneered. "It's what's right."

"Appearances and all that," he shrugged the shoulder he was rolling and stretched his neck back and forth. _"_We're accommodating_, _remember?"

Gilroy grunted as the line of wet bodies continued to shuffle forward out of the change room.

The pool room was warm, and the lights beneath the water bathed everything in a soothing blue hue. Spenc scratched at his jaw as he watched the instructors strut around with their whistles pinched between their lips and forefingers, before turning his attention to the ladies as they filed out of their own respective change room. His gaze lingered on them until Lieutenant Govosa yelled for them all to form a line.

They converged to stand shoulder to shoulder in front of the pool, while Govosa blew a continuous, chittering birdsong into his whistle. Spenc pressed one of his ears against his shoulder with a grimace.

"Lieutenant Thrawn," Govosa called out. "Step forward."

This was it, the moment of truth.

"The cadets have all had a chance to see each other prepare—"

Spenc rolled his eyes. An explanation wasn't needed, a simple order would have sufficed. Did they expect Thrawn to refuse? The sniveling creature wouldn't dare. He knew his type.

"—On my whistle, four laps of butterfly and four laps of freestyle."

Thrawn stepped up onto the starter block and on the whistle, he dove into the water. His core strength was in full display as he was able to rotate 360 as he shot forward, just like a metal bullet from out of one of those ballistic weapons used by savage alien colonies.

Spenc took a step closer to the pool, his top lip curling. Thrawn's butterfly was textbook. His chin was perfectly tucked when he took his breath, his arms were ramrod straight as they left the water, but it was his propulsion, his propulsion that was particularly impressive.

The same could be said of his freestyle—it was textbook. Smooth, cutting and quick.

"Time!" Govosa yelled looking down at the screen on the starter block. "Four minutes twenty-one seconds. A new record."

A violent surge of competitiveness burned its way through him. Thrawn had clocked in a full forty-five seconds faster than he and Piles at their very best and judging by the steady rise and fall of his chest, he wasn't winded. On the contrary, he had very clearly held back.

Rosita seemed to be doing her best to mask her displeasure, but there was that telltale scrunch to her nose, visible for all to see.

For her it must have been like watching 5000 credits get blown out of an airlock and into space. He chuckled to himself, getting it all out before arranging his face into one of solemnity, then he shouldered his way out of line and squeezed himself between her and Dibbs.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Of course, I'm not," Rosita hissed under her breath.

It was more than a bit annoying that his past performances didn't elicit this level of panic in her, but she would pay for that later when she came not in second or even third place.

"It isn't fair," she huffed. "For all we know his kind are aquatic. Have they considered that?"

"They don't care," Gilroy said. "Accommodations are made to benefit them, not us."

"It all comes down to whether or not Vanto can dive well," Dibbs said. "He's good at the classwork but his marksmanship is acceptable at best. What was it that he got again?"

"Seventy percent hit rate, sixty percent kill shots," Piles said promptly.

"What did you get again, Turuy?" Gilroy asked.

Spenc turned to glare pointedly at him and shook his head in warning.

"I made one mistake. One," she shot back reflexively. "And what does my marksmanship have to do with this?"

"One mistake?" he snorted. "You were the first on our team to die in the War Game exercise."

_'Sniffing kriff,'_ Spenc thought with a scowl. Rosita was beginning to go red in the face.

"Yes, Thrawn killed me," she spat. "He killed a lot of us. And where were you during this slaughter? I heard you were hiding in some shit ditch, doing nothing!"

"Divers!" Govosa yelled before Gilroy was able to counter, "Why are you all standing around? Head to the equipment room and strap up!"

The divers moved off together to get their breathing apparatuses, except for Muanung, who slipped into the oxygen chamber.

"As for the rest of you, you'd better get cracking. Four minutes and twenty-one seconds is the time to beat. Share the lanes and see what you can do!"

They beelined it to the starter blocks as fast as was possible on the slippery wet tiles and formed lines behind each one, then they would step up, dive in and shoot off to the opposite end, climb out and get back in line to do it all over again.

"I think Thrawn has a definite shot at winning," Piles said while they waited in line for their turns. "Whether Vanto can dive or not. He didn't look winded at all after his eight laps, did any of you notice that?"

"I noticed." Spenc turned to look back over at Thrawn who was speaking with Govosa and the other instructors. They were all fawning over him by the looks of it.

"He can't win," Rosita muttered, folding her arms. "No matter what it takes, he can't."

_'Finally!'_ Spenc thought, tossing his head back. It was beginning to grate on his nerves, how paranoid she was about getting rebuked for showing Thrawn his place.

The divers began to surface, Muanung first, Gilroy second, Toll third, and then to his surprise, Vanto was fourth. It was possible this meant nothing. They may have submerged at different times and weren't necessarily racing. The swimmers began making there way over to them to complete their teams.

"You know, Piles," Gilroy said, pulling himself out of the water and turning to sit on the edge of the pool. "When you get right down to it, you're our team's dead weight." He took off his flippers then stood up and unstrapped his rebreather harness.

"Oh yeah?" Piles said.

"No one is getting in my way down there, and after Thrawn, Spenc has the best time for his round. You on the other hand…"

"You just worry about getting those little coins, Gimm."

"I will," he said. "And while I'm at it you can work on swimming faster."

"I think I'm doing just fine, thank you."

"Shut up!" Spenc snapped. "You're both equally terrible."

…

In the shower, Spenc adjusted the water's temperature to his liking and stepped under the falling stream.

Up until recently, he had felt unstoppable. His father was able to pay off one of the cooks to take the fall for the poisoning incident, his girlfriend was happy… enough, and his swim team was most expected to win the relay (at least to those with working faculties.) Anything he wanted, he got.

Only things have changed now.

He turned his head to look over at Gilroy, whose mouth was wide open to catch water as it came out of the showerhead so he could gurgle it out over his chin and chest.

A spasm stiffened Spenc's back and his face twisted in disgust. Unwitting to him came a question. Was this the face Gilroy made whenever Fleek decided to finish in his mouth?

"What?" Gilroy asked when he noticed him looking his way.

"Nothing." He turned and faced the shower wall so he could soap his dick up in privacy.

"You better not be thinking about not coming out tonight."

Spenc's answer was to bite down hard on his bottom lip while jutting his hips forward to rinse himself off.

"And they call me obnoxious."

"They say that of me as well," Spenc reminded him with a shrug. Feeling proper clean now, he turned the water off and began to make his way out of the showers, when Thrawn's jarringly blue form parted the steam through the archway in front of him.

Spenc stopped in his tracks to prevent him from passing. He felt great satisfaction in being taller than him. He liked that Thrawn had to tilt his head up to stare him in the eyes. _'Come on, you sniveling shit, you know you want to do something,' _he thought darkly.

Thrawn, as usual, gave him nothing. Nothing, but a casual acceptance that set Spenc's teeth on edge for how it sucked the sport out of it.

It didn't matter, he wasn't going to do anything—yet. Not when Thrawn was so obviously keen on it. For all he knew the little cretin got off on the idea of being knocked out by him. He stepped aside and went around him, careful to not touch his blue skin in the slightest.


	12. Schemers

**Chapter 12:Schemers **

Rosita sat in her room and stared down at her datapad with unseeing eyes.

She was supposed to be framing the conclusion of her thesis: on how body language could be an unreliable indicator of the mental state during an interrogation, only she couldn't focus on subjects like _The Right of Information Act _any more than she could focus on the more manipulative personality types.

The only thing she could think about was her prize, and how it was being stolen by some alien who just happened to swim like a fucking fish!

It wasn't fair! She wanted to win the race; she was the one who needed the money most. Her 80,000-credit debt would only continue to climb with interest once she graduated.

Maybe it really would be best if she asked Kalin to join Spenc's team. Their team had no chance of winning against Thrawn's, but with Kalin on Spenc's team they could definitely pull it off— Spenc did say he would give her his share of the winnings.

No.

Rosita conjured up a memory of her mother, one from not long after they had first found out about her father's infidelity, back when their home still felt disturbingly empty without him. Rosita had overheard a call between the two of them when her mother had begged for him to return.

After everything he had done, all the lies, she still wanted him—needed him. _"I need you, Morris," _her mother cried_. "I don't know how to do this on my own_!"

Pathetic.

There was no way she was going to risk becoming like that, all dependent and vulnerable.

No. There was only one way to deal with a problem like Thrawn and it didn't involve good sportsmanship. She simply couldn't afford to play fair.

…

Spenc's door slid open to reveal Gimm's reddened face. Alcohol did always make him look like an oversized blood sac. Rosita looked around his bare torso to see Spenc, Piles, the Nateel twins, and Boervox each occupying large portions of the room.

"Why are you all shirtless?" she asked, stepping cautiously into the room. It smelt of beer and cologne, with an underlying and yet distinct man smell that she wouldn't call good or bad.

They looked around at each other as if just noticing this detail.

"Why are you here?" Gimm asked flatly.

"I need to speak with Spenc."

"No way," Gimm clasped both of Spenc's shoulders and shook him. "He's coming out with us tonight."

Spenc took it with a grin.

"That's entirely up to him, isn't it?" she said, tossing her hair back.

Spenc moved towards her, leaning slightly to the side and bending a bit at the knees—all the better to see her face evidently. He must have noticed the make up she had carefully applied before heading there because he straightened back up and said, "Just a moment."

"You're an idiot, you know that, right?" Gimm asked him while doing up the buttons of his shirt.

"I'll meet you down there," he said as they left the room.

After the door slid shut after them, Rosita and Spenc fell into what for them was an awkward silence. He was the first to break it.

"What's with all this?" he asked, flicking her loose hair with the tips of his fingers.

"I've been distant these last few days," she admitted with a shrug.

"Distant?" he snorted. "Unbearable is more like it. I think I've proven myself to be understanding. Sensitive even, one might say."

"For you, yes."

"Is that why you're here?" he lifted his hand and smudged her pink lip gloss with his thumb, she both hated and loved it. "To apologize?"

"We both deserve some relief," she replied. "And I have an idea I want to run by you."

"Go on then."

She knelt in front of him and without ceremony began tugging at his belt.

It had been a while since she last used her mouth on him and he had been so generous on her with his, so this time she would do it exactly the way that he liked.

First, without using her hands to help, she picked him up between her lips and swallowed as much of his hardening cock as she could, there she would stay until she gagged, before releasing him and repeating the process. Whenever she grew tired, she would drag her lips along the underside. She even made sure to look up at him from underneath her lashes—just the way that he liked, in that way that made him feel it was her who was submitting to him and not the other way around.

Spenc groaned, entwined his fingers in her hair, and pressed his palms against the sides of her head, thrusting harder and harder.

When it became too much, she pulled him out with a wet smack and murmured against his flesh, "We need to make sure Thrawn doesn't win the race."

"And how do you suggest we do that, exactly?"

"We hurt him," she said simply.

"Hurt him?" he swelled in her hands and his eyes now glittered in renewed anticipation.

"Just enough to level the playing field," she added hastily.

He pushed his hips forward and nudged at her lips. "And Vanto?"

She took him in, bobbed her head a few times, then released him again. "Vanto's nothing. Besides—" she rubbed his head into her lips. "Only those who know him would know he's from Wild Space so it might look suspicious if we single him out too. It has to look like its another random attack on another random alien."

"Thrawn and Vanto are inseparable. Vanto may try and stop us. Or he'll run and get help."

"If he tries anything, we act to defend ourselves. Kalin did say he's a decent diver. Apparently, he's trained in space diving so it might not hurt to slow him down too."

Spenc moved his fingers to rest against the back of her head and helped guide her mouth back to work. "No hands," he reminded her when she reached up to handle him.

Unfortunately, he couldn't cum from oral alone and her jaw eventually began to ache. She slid him out of her mouth with an apologetic shrug. Fortunately, he didn't object to this, as he was now keen on the prospect of getting to jump Thrawn.

"Where would we do it?" he asked eagerly while helping her to her feet and doing up his pants.

"Right here, on campus. All sorts wander the grounds; the list of suspects would be wide enough to cover our tracks."

"Alright, on campus then." He smirked. "How will get him to go where we need him? It will have to be out of the way."

She frowned in thought, and then it came to her in a rush. "A victory between athletes," she began with a growing smile. "Is only truly earned when each competitor is equally prepared for the match."

"What?"

"I know how we can flush him out," Rosita said.

"How?"

"We'll talk about it later. You go have your fun."

Spenc looked to his door then back over at her, visibly conflicted. "You can stay in here," he said. "Use my datapad and work on your thesis. I won't be long; I'm only having a few drinks."

"Don't be silly," she tittered, moving to press herself against him. "I think I'll go get some sleep and work on that tomorrow. Kalin and I have plans in the morning."

He nodded gratefully.

"Please be good tonight."

He promised her he would and they sealed the deal with a lingering kiss and assurances of love.

* * *

The Right of Information Act is based on The Freedom of Information Act; it will definitely come up again in this story.

Did you know Saddam Hussein wrote a romance novel? Ekk.

I'm not sure if the way I wrote the E11 is canon. I envisioned it to be a little less compact than it actually is and when I wrote how it functioned, I was kind of picturing a fully automatic ballistic weapon. So, one would pull on the trigger and spray a continuous stream of plasma bolts. The devil's in the details and it drives me fucking insane but I love it.


	13. That Slippery Slope

He better hope he gets that knockout, otherwise it's gonna be a fucked up night for him - Nate Diaz

**Chapter Thirteen: That Slippery Slope**

Rosita sat with her head against Spenc's shoulder, murmuring quietly to him as he scrolled through pictures of flats and penthouses on his datapad.

The doctor's waiting room was quiet, so quiet in fact that when she stopped speaking and there were no calls coming in for the secretary, the faint buzzing sound of the bright white lights could be heard. They sat this way until the secretary's voice cut through the silence.

"She'll see you now."

"You know this is ridiculous, right?" Spenc asked as they made their way to the back rooms.

"I just want to be sure," Rosita replied.

A door slid open for them and they walked into a very large and bright room that was outfitted with a bed, diagnostics table and Bacta tank.

Spenc's sister Kyria sat behind a synthwood desk and eyed them critically as they sat down in front of her. "You're not pregnant, are you?" she asked, adjusting her white jacket.

"Stars no!" Rosita turned sharply to look at Spenc.

"We need your expertise on a matter," he said, returning Rosita's incredulous look with a small shrug.

Kyria leaned back and crossed her arms. "Spiking another drink, are you?"

"Something like that." He grinned and grabbed Rosita's hand, staring longingly into her eyes for a moment. She gazed back devotedly.

"We have a swim race in three days," she began lightly, "and I really need to win. Let's say we had to slow down one of our competitors, where would be the best place to strike them beforehand? I was thinking a proper blow to the kneecap will shave a few…" she trailed off at the look on Kyria's face.

"You need to win it that badly?"

Rosita nodded eagerly.

Kyria typed something on her computer's keyboard and said, "How's about I write you a prescription for Plytax instead? It's virtually new to the market but it has shown remarkable—

"—Excuse me?" Rosita cut across her. Spenc choked and stifled a laugh behind his hand.

"It's an antidepressant with mild sedative effects. It will calm your anxieties."

"I don't need any of that."

"You plan to shatter someone's kneecap in order to win a race," Kyria said, blunt with an edge to her sardonic tone. "In my professional opinion: you're on edge."

"I'm ambitious."

"You're relentless, like my dear little brother. Maybe I should write him a prescription as well."

Spenc let out a loud, "Ha!" at that.

"You said she would understand," Rosita spat accusingly at him.

"I said she might," he retorted. "I also told you this was a waste of time."

"Is it the prize that you seek?" Kyria laughed lightly. "If you need the money that badly why don't you ask your dad for it? I hear he's made partner at his firm. Pay your debts then go back to pretending he doesn't exist afterward. Only your pride need suffer."

"I want to win the race."

"Fuck the race," Spenc growled, reaching over and squeezing the inside of her thigh. "This isn't about winning some stupid game, it's about sending Thrawn a message." He looked back over at Kyria. "Our target's an alien—a blight if there ever was one. He needs to learn his place."

"Dad told you to play nicely. Your mishaps are becoming costly."

"We'll be careful," he said flippantly.

"We don't plan on killing him, we only need to slow him down," Rosita added.

Kyria looked between the two of them. "You little monsters were made for each other," she remarked in awe, then sighing in resignation she added, "If you want to slow him down, you'll do exactly as I say."

They each leaned forward in their seats.

** … **

"We have since covered how to upgrade fuel ventilation systems but as weapons engineers, it's your responsibility to use your ingenuity to create—"

Rosita's fingers drummed the desk next to her datapad as she half-listened to the lecture and half-reviewed their plans for Thrawn.

Thrawn.

Her gaze moved to linger on the back of his head, at the neatly kept blue-black hair, then down the nape of his neck when he turned sharply and met her gaze.

She snapped her head in another direction and thought, _'How does he always know?' _

When class ended, Rosita packed up her things and walked quickly down the hallway after him and Vanto. She ran ahead and around them, turning sharply to cut them off. "Can I have a quick word with you both?" she asked.

Thrawn blinked in that languid way of his and consented with a slight nod of his head. They moved to the side to not impede traffic and she spared a glance between the two of them and spotted Spenc, who was waiting for her down the hall with his arms folded.

It was all about acting naturally and not being too sweet; they would see right through that.

"The race is in two days," she began conversationally, "And you've only seen the caves once, Vanto. That's hardly fair is it?"

Vanto raised both eyebrows and stared at her in silence.

Rosita wondered if he knew how stupid he looked with that expression on his face, she was going to tell him but instead said, "I've taken the liberty of finding an instructor who will oversee you, that way you get one more chance to explore them."

"And you arranged this out of the kindness of your heart?" he asked drily.

She smiled tightly at him before turning to Thrawn. "Do you remember when we agreed that to be the best athlete, you must defeat the best athletes?"

"Yes."

"Vanto may not have had as many chances to see the caves as us, but now he will get to see them in a way none of us have: _alone_."

Thrawn gave no hint to what he was thinking or feeling, but she was aware she had never given him any concrete reason to believe she lived with a code of honor, so, to remove all traces of doubt she laid down another card.

"I also have a favor to ask," she said. "You know, since I'm helping you out and all."

Aliens understood greed above all else; Thrawn's head tilted ever so slightly to the side.

"In exchange for getting Vanto more time in the caves, would you help me with my butterfly stroke?"

She bit back a smirk as Thrawn bowed his head and said, "I am happy to share my experience."

"Good." Rosita tossed her hair back. "We'll meet at the Simulation Pool at twenty hundred hours."

'_Almost too easy,'_ she thought, walking away from them with a smile on her face.

** … **

Rosita wondered what Spenc would say if he saw her now—nothing nice, she imagined.

Thrawn tread water while supporting her floating form with one hand, his fingertips dug into her midriff while she demonstrated her melodie kick for him.

"Focus," he said sharply; her worries were slowing her down.

"I'm trying!" she panted and spluttered hard—this was all so wrong.

"Stop," he removed his hand, leaving her to sort herself out and tread the water.

"Is your core fully engaged during?" he asked.

"Yes," she assured him.

He looked doubtful and reached for her stomach again, pressing his fingertips into her abdomen. "Engage."

She rolled her abs into each other and compressed.

"More," he demanded.

Somehow, she dug for more.

"Better," he said. "Always think first of your core, it comes mostly from there and breathe as if every breath is your first." He held out his hand again. "Begin."

She resumed her position, allowing him to support her while she tucked in her waist, squeezed her thighs together and kicked.

"Better," he confirmed, releasing her.

She smiled proudly.

"You know the motions; you need only to find your true strength potential."

"I strive to," she said, sliding her goggles down to drape around her neck. They fell into silence. Thrawn kept the water at his sternum, never allowing it to reach any higher so she made sure to do the same.

Something seemed to catch his attention over her shoulder. Rosita turned and saw that Corporal Ludan was watching them closely.

"He does not like this arrangement," Thrawn said.

"Corporal Ludan?"

"Orbar."

Her body sunk down to her chin. "That's neither here nor there." She looked back over at Ludan. Had Spenc asked that he spy on her?

"I understand your frustration," Thrawn said, bringing her attention back to him.

"No, you don't," she muttered.

"You will have to retake your marksmanship test."

She sunk a bit further, up to her narrowed eyes.

"I too have felt the sting of failure," he said. "It has been integral for my many successes."

"You killed me. After everything you—" she stopped short of spilling her guts out. She wanted to make it known that for one instant she had thought he was decent—an exception to the alien rule, and that it felt like a betrayal to have him of all people be the one to take her out. She didn't have to say this however, the slight twist to his lips said he understood.

"I did not know it was you," he murmured.

"Had you known would you have spared me?"

"Had I let you go, would you have kept the location of our case secret? You were close to discovering it."

Rosita opened her mouth then closed it. Her hand jerked up to scratch the nape of her neck, while Thrawn gave her what could only be described as a knowing smirk.

She drew herself up haughtily. "I've heard you've had prior military experience—you yourself said you've killed in battle."

"Indeed," he said.

"It hardly seems fair that we must compete against you."

"Perhaps not."

"How old are you?"

"Thirty-five, in your standard galactic years."

"Oh?" she frowned thoughtfully.

"And you?" he asked.

"I'll be twenty-three soon enough."

"I see," he said.

She tried hard not to flush, but his eyes were like fucking laser beams cutting into her.

"How about another demonstration?" she suggested. "Do your eight laps, only this time don't hold back."

"Very well." Without another word, Thrawn began swimming to the side leaving her to follow suit.

It was rather titillating to see such proficiency in another sentient being. Her hand moved to her throat. She had forgotten to ask if his people were aquatic. The way he moved said that they were, but swimming could have been yet another thing he happened to dominate.

"Bastard," she muttered, feeling a fierce resentment towards him.

He looked quite fascinating in the water though, she could admit— all that silver dripping off blue. Was the contrast between their skin colour appealing to the eyes, like hers and Spenc's? Would it be so wrong if she splayed her hands against his chest to find out?

A shiver made its way up her spine.

"Turuy."

She jumped, turning to face Corporal Ludan. She hadn't noticed him coming up behind her.

"I hear he's fast," he said, looking past her at Thrawn.

"Very. you'll see exactly how fast shortly." She looked down at the timer on the starter block, Thrawn was starting his freestyle with one-minute fifty-eight seconds on the clock.

He finished all eight laps in four minutes three seconds. Ludan let out a long whistle between his teeth. "It's for the best," he muttered close to her ear. "None of you would stand a chance otherwise."

This was true, so why did it suddenly feel so wrong?

Vanto surfaced, Ludan left her to help him put the equipment away, while Rosita watched Thrawn climb out of the water.

He stood in front of her all bare-chested and dripping. "This was pointless," she said, making sure to keep her gaze firmly on his face. "I'll never be as fast as you."

"Were this strictly a lane race, you would not offer much in the way of challenge, no." He admitted. "However, dismissing your chances as hopeless in the face of a stronger adversary will achieve nothing. In your practice trials, you clocked in at three minutes exactly. If Cadet Dibbs is as fast at freestyle as you are at the butterfly, and if Cadet Muanung is as good as information suggests, then your chances of victory are as good as any other competitor."

The thing about Spenc that Rosita liked the most was the fact that he gave it to her straight. He had no qualms making sure she knew her limitations, but Thrawn did it in a way that was so much better. Thrawn's criticism was given tactfully and he paired them with solutions that dignified her rather than brought her down.

She hated to compare Spenc with an alien, but if there was one thing she could take from Thrawn and give to Spenc, it would be his tact.

And because the universe just had to solidify the point, he said, "Remember, Cadet Turuy, the pursuit of perfection is only rational when you understand that perfection is unattainable."

'_Must you make everything difficult?' _she thought bitterly.

Thrawn was walking away when Rosita reached out and grabbed his elbow, in a gentle yet solid grip. He stopped and looked down questioningly over his shoulder—first at her hand then her face.

"Be careful out there tonight, Sir."

**TBC…**


	14. Out of the Pool and into the Fire

Read my stories not my opinions: I don't always mean the things I say and I don't always believe the things I feel.

**Chapter 14: Out of the Pool and into the Fire**

Rosita had made a huge mistake and had to put it right at once.

She burst through the changing room door and ran straight for her locker. She ripped the door open, hardly wincing when it clattered against another locker with a loud BANG!

"Come on," she muttered, digging desperately through her bag for her commlink. "Come on, come on!"

The surge of adrenaline made her want to urinate something fierce, but there was no time for that, so she made do with squeezing her thighs together and bending over at the waist until finally, her hand closed over her commlink. She pulled it out and pounded in Gimm's number.

"Come on! Come on!"

No answer.

"Kriffing fuck!" she bellowed, nearly flinging the device across the room. She took a deep steadying breath before trying for Piles.

Again, no answer. She scoffed loudly and dialed Spenc.

"Finally," he said, by way of greeting. "Hurry up and shower."

"You need to run over there and tell them it's off." Rosita held the phone up with her shoulders and began pulling one of her swimsuit's straps down her arm. "I repeat: the hit is off!"

Her words were met with silence, she could picture the furrow between his brows and the curl to his lips.

"Spenc? Do you copy?"

"Yes," he said flatly. "I was just wondering why you would have me go and do a thing like that?"

"Please, just go and do it. I'll explain why later."

Later being after she thought up a good enough lie to explain herself.

"I'm coming in."

"NO!" she bellowed into the device, but the line disconnected. She cursed down at it before dropping it back into her bag and running for the toilet.

It wasn't long before she heard him call out from somewhere in the changing room,"WHERE ARE YOU?"

"WAIT OUT THERE FOR ME!" she hollered back, struggling to pull her wet swimsuit back up.

He didn't, of course, she could hear his footsteps echoing off the bathroom's tiles until stopping outside of her stall, he wedged the shinning toes of his boots beneath the space at the bottom and shook the door from the top.

Rosita flushed the toilet then shoved the stall's door open with her shoulder, driving him back.

"I told you to go call it off!" she snarled.

"Did Ludan change his mind or something?" he asked.

"No." She began washing her hands, glaring furiously at him over the shoulder of her reflection.

"So then why do you want me to call it off?"

"You know what, forget it, I'll go do it myself." She stormed back to the change room, wet hands clenched and Spenc hot on her heels.

"What's your problem?" he asked.

Rosita pulled her arm out of his hand so that she could shimmy her jammers down over her hips and kick them off onto the bench.

"I said forget it, I'll do it myself."

Spenc stepped over the bench, the one barrier she had against him. "I'll do it," he assured her, "But first I want to know why I should?"

She wrapped her towel tightly around herself and gave him a small shrug, somehow keeping her gaze trained unflinchingly on his.

"Your silence won't do this time. Answer the question."

"There isn't time. I said I'll tell you later."

She grabbed up her bag and took her shirt out only to have Spenc yank both it and her shirt from her grasp.

"Can you not?" she snarled impatiently, holding her hand out and snapping her fingertips into her palm.

"You'll get it back when I get my answer."

"I'll go out there stark naked if I have to!"

"Go ahead," he said, splaying his hands towards the door. "They're not going to listen to you though, so if you want to end this, you'll kindly explain why first, then we can go from there."

"We're going in circles here!" she groaned and rubbed a hand down her face. "You're just going to have to trust me on this; it's for the best."

She looked over pointedly at the door and added, "Please hurry. I'm going to go shower, I'll meet you out there."

Rosita turned and made to head for the showers when his hand closed over the top of her shoulder in a solid grip that stopped her in her tracks. He didn't jerk her around to face him—he knew what would happen if he dared—but when she tried to shrug him off, his grip tightened.

"Spenc," she said warningly.

He released her. "We're not calling it off," he said through his teeth. "And you're going to tell me what changed your mind. Did **_he_** say something?"

"No, **_he _**didn't," she retorted.

Spenc remained silent, his dark eyes bored into her own, and his face was impassive—save for the slight curl to his lips.

"This has nothing to do him," she said with shocking conviction. "I just came to realize that what we plan to do is cheat. If I win, I want to win fair and square."

"What?" she asked when he snorted loudly.

"If I win, I want to win fair and square." He mimicked her in a high falsetto that sounded nothing like her. "I didn't know you saw me that way too," he added while shaking his head with a look of immense disapproval.

Now it was her turn to frown. "See you how?" she asked.

"Like I'm kriffing dense," he sneered. "Are you really trying to feed me the same line you used to make the alien come here tonight? I know for a fact that you don't care about playing fair, and yet now, you suddenly do?"

"I do care!" she blurted out clumsily.

"Only when its to make some point," he threw back at her. "So what point are you trying to make here?"

"You're overthinking it."

He cocked an unimpressed eyebrow.

"You are!"

"Rosita, this is what you wanted, remember?"

"And now I don't want it anymore! So, can you please, please go do this for me?" she fluttered her lashes and gazed, wide-eyed at him.

His rictus of anger suddenly gave way to understanding, and he nodded slowly, a smile spreading his lips.

"You're afraid," he said, as if it had finally dawned on him. "Remember, you can back out if you're not feeling ready to try it yet. You know how badly I want to break him—just about as much as I want in that pretty ass of yours. Look, I even brought my mask for in case you changed your mind." He pulled it out and showed her.

"This has nothing to do with our deal," she said eyeing it. "I mean to honor it, whether the fight happens or not."

"No need to lie," he cuffed her lightly under the chin with her shirt and his mask clasped tightly in his hand. "I actually find it cute."

"Cute?" she shook her head with a frown. "Thrawn's suspicious, that's all. I think he's expecting us to try something tonight. He'll name us, I just know he will."

"Let him be suspicious," Spenc said with a shrug. "He'll have no proof to back his claim."

She swallowed, hard. "Still, if there's even one chance—"

"—We keep our promises, Rosita," he returned calmly, "Tonight you give it up to me or I'm going out there to help them. Those are your two choices. Say now what you choose."

Rosita raked her hand through her wet hair with a loud sigh, she was in over her head here.

She couldn't tell Spenc the truth: that she gave Thrawn a warning that could be used as evidence to tie them to the assault. To do so would be to admit—she didn't want Spenc to think—Anyways, it was a mistake, a stupid slip of the tongue; Thrawn had somehow coaxed out all logic from her brain and made her a traitor.

The question was whether it mattered? She could always deny it, it would be her word against his. Thrawn was now an officer, true, but he was still an alien at the end of the day.

"We'll just leave things how they are," she said, turning her face away to stare down at the floor.

"Look at me."

She did, tentatively. She hated fear and what it did to a person, but shame was even worse. Her eyes darted over Spenc's face to avoid looking him in the eyes.

"Go shower," he said kindly, placing his free hand on her shoulder. "Ludan will be waiting for us. And don't you worry about tonight, I know how to be gentle, you know that."

She shrugged him off, grabbed up her shower bag and stepped over the bench.

"Rosita?"

She turned to look back at him.

"This is about sending him a message," he said. "If it doesn't happen tonight, it will happen another time. Tonight just happens to be the most beneficial option—for all of us."

Her eyes widened slightly, Spenc had given her a little sideways smile—a knowing smirk—had he an inkling why she was really hesitant? She could only hope he did not.


	15. Trap

**Chapter Fifteen: Tra****p**

_**If you truly wish to understand a person you must first place yourself beneath them. In order to see their true colours, they must see themselves looking down on you. Even silence is deafening.**_

"We have since covered how to upgrade fuel ventilation systems but as weapons engineers, it's your responsibility to use your ingenuity to create more efficient ways to cool our arms," the instructor said, swiping through various holograms of the many different weapons in the Imperial arsenal.

Thrawn looked down at his datapad and made alterations to his engine design, freezing when the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He turned and spared a glance over his shoulder, meeting Cadet Turuy's steady gaze. He came to expect her intense scrutiny by now. It was common for those with such disdain to become fixated on the objects of their ire. Those who hated the alien thought most of the alien.

He turned away and went back to his sketch.

When class came to an end, he gathered his things and made his way out with Vanto. Over the idle chatter of the cadets, Thrawn could detect the approach of purposeful footsteps.

It was little surprise when Cadet Turuy cut around them and stopped them in their tracks. The last time they had shared verbal communication was the night of the War Game. She had vowed to one day get him back—she had hissed her oath in the dark, despite the rules.

Lately, she had been clinging more openly to Orbar. Orbar, who for the last couple of days had been watching him closely, a smile fixed to his face—his patience had been wearing thin, but now the Cadet seemed relaxed with a sense of purpose.

"The race is in two days," she said. "And you've only seen the caves once, Vanto. That's hardly fair is it?" Her tone stilted and jarred unnaturally. She had practiced these lines, evidently, and waited for the right moment to deploy them.

"I've taken the liberty of finding an instructor who will oversee you," she went on, "That way you get one more chance to explore them."

"And you arranged this out of the kindness of your heart?" Vanto asked, a sardonic lilt to his inflection.

She bore the expression of one burdened by an unpleasant odor—her smile was strained and her nose was wrinkled. She recovered quickly, however, then turned to Thrawn.

"Do you remember when we agreed that to be the best athlete, you must defeat the best athletes?"

"Yes," he confirmed.

"Vanto may not have had as many chances to see the caves as us, but now he will get to see them in a way none of us have: alone." Her eyes darted over his face, searching for answers he rarely showed. "I also have a favor to ask, you know, since I'm helping you out and all."

'_Do you?' _he wondered, his head tilting to the side.

"In exchange for getting Vanto more time in the caves, would you help me with my butterfly stroke?"

Turuy was effective bait; Thrawn enjoyed her company. "I am happy to share my experience," he said softly.

"Good." She tossed her head self-importantly. "We'll meet at the Simulation Pool at twenty hundred hours." She shouldered her way around him.

"Well, this is highly suspect," Vanto said, his wary gaze trained on Turuy's retreating back.

"Indeed," Thrawn said, meeting Orbar's gaze down the hallway.

**...**

Cadet Turuy had managed to convince Corporal Ludan, their war ethics instructor, to oversee Vanto's survey of the caves. Thrawn's head tilted thoughtfully when Vanto read aloud the corporal's message, postponing their meet up time to 2100 hours.

There was something arousing about walking into a trap. Thrawn allowed the feeling of anticipation to overtake him, feeling his body pound with adrenaline as he and Vanto made their way down to the Simulation Pool.

After their pre-wash, he and Vanto entered the pool room. Corporal Ludan, spotting them, raised an arm and hailed Vanto over. Vanto hesitated for the slightest moment, exchanging a quick glance with Thrawn before he accompanied Ludan into the equipment storage room.

Cadet Turuy stood alone at the opposite end of the pool, dragging her foot lazily through the water and staring expectantly at him.

It was a mockery to the natural order, her the predator, fully vulnerable and him the prey; eager to close the distance. As he drew closer, her shoulders, neck, and face began to bloom with deep red and orange splotches. The unevenness in colour showed how she fought the need to flush.

"Thanks for coming," she said, then after a brief pause added a quick, "Sir."

He bowed his head. "How may I be of service?"

That strained smile again. "It's like I told you," she began. "I need your help with my butterfly. I want to be faster."

"For this, you must train."

"There isn't the time for that now," she said, reaching up and tugging at her swim cap, making sure every hair was tucked in. He noted how when her hair was covered it made her face appear more angular and her neck even longer.

"Do you have any tricks you can teach me?" she asked.

"I will do what I can," he said. "Have you warmed up?"

Her eyes narrowed, perhaps desperate to find some hidden insult in his question?

"I'm ready to go," she replied stiffly.

He gestured for her to take her place. "Demonstrate your technique, I will stop you once I have found what I am looking for."

"And what would that be, exactly?"

"Your flaws," he said, then gestured again for the starting block, this time with a jerk of the head.

There was no denying the effect his words had on her, the influx of deep red over her upper body said it all.

It was a curious thing, for one so cold to be so sensitive.

Cadet Turuy stepped up onto the block, her mouth a strained, tight line.

"Do not focus on speed," he said when she knelt in position. "I must see the degree of precision in your movements before I feel the true potential of your strength."

Her head snapped in his direction.

Thrawn gestured again for her to begin.

She scoffed but followed through.

Dive: incomplete, possibly unnerved by his words. Recovery: success. Kick: powerful, but had she more? Arms: engaged, but not overly relied upon. Conclusion: lovely.

He lowered himself into the water—keeping his gaze on her all the time—before swimming out to meet her.

Turuy stopped mid-drive, taking in a big gulp of air and lifting her goggles to her forehead.

"You have improved," he said. "Your form is excellent."

"There was that belly flop of a dive," she muttered, wiping at her face and nostrils.

"You recovered, I have seen your start before and found no issues."

"So, my form is excellent and yet I've plateaued."

"Plateaued?" He thought of the word in this context, thinking of how she would not have the patience to explain it to him, when she stuck her index finger out and drew a line going upwards at a slight incline as she answered.

"I have trained and I have gotten faster over time but now," she drew a straight line off of the axis. "I've plateaued."

"I see," he said.

"Oh, I'm sure you see a lot of things, Thrawn."

He smirked, drinking it in. "I wish to try an exercise with you."

"What sort of exercise?"

When he explained what was required of her, she accused him of only wanting an excuse to touch her. Once he had convinced her that his intentions were within bounds of proper conduct she relented, and he proceeded to hold her body aloft, balanced on the palm of his hand.

Her abdomen rippled pleasantly over his fingertips as she kicked.

"This is extremely awkward!" she complained.

He disagreed. Dragging his gaze over the curvature of her body, he said, "I am testing your strength and proving a point I once made to you."

"Oh? And what point is that, exactly?" she stopped kicking and floundered out of his grasp to tread the water.

"Your core and hips are in command, your arms its subordinates, and your legs your weapons.

Doubt creased her face. "Spenc said the opposite," she remarked. "He said the upper body is everything for the butterfly."

"It is an inefficient stroke," Thrawn said nodding.

"So you agree, I need more upper body strength?"

"I believe in using the best of what you have, Cadet Turuy. Let us try again." He held his hand out beckoningly, a small smirk spreading his lips when she took position again.

**...**

Thrawn was about to go when he felt Turuy's hand on his arm.

"Be careful out there tonight, Sir." Her eyes conveyed what could not be said.

He bowed his head in acknowledgment and instead of continuing on his way to the equipment storage room, he turned and head straight for the change room; there was no reason to involve Vanto in this, he knew it was him they wanted.

Once Thrawn was outside, he scanned the area and saw faint heat signatures emitting from a small group north of the parade grounds.

He knew if he moved quickly enough, he would get to the path on the other side where it was brightly lit and where there would be others moving about who could put a stop to the attack. But to get exactly what he wanted it would require another approach.

A more personal touch.

He walked forward slowly, his ears picking up the sound of them moving quietly behind him, their movements careful enough to pass as stealthy, but with enough haste to quickly cut him off from safety.

He stopped in his tracks and the footsteps came to a halt a short distance behind him. He pivoted: right turn, then began making his way further into the parade ground, leading them towards the bleachers. It was especially dark over there; he would see them better…

There was no jeering or name-calling as they worked to surround him. Perhaps they worried he could identify them by the sound of their voices.

All five of them were methodical in their execution, but they could not see him as he saw them, and so their shots went wide and it was Thrawn who manipulated them. He danced around them, drew them this way and that, testing their defenses.

They broke formation, dive-bombing him in a burst of attacks, he felt a sharp blow to his kidney, then doubled over as another hit caught his abdomen.

An error landed him on his back. Thrawn grabbed the boot of one of his attackers, holding it at bay, only to feel another land a solid blow to his rib cage that pulled the air from his lungs and sharpened his senses.

Over and over they kicked him.

He rolled onto his stomach and swiped for one of their legs, yanking the assailant off their feet and using their momentum to get back to his. He pivoted, narrowly avoiding a jab meant for his face.

They were a capable unit, but those who wore masks wore their weakness for all to see.

Thrawn went on the offensive; he only needed one of them.

As he dodged another jab to the face, he latched onto the outstretched wrist, twisting the arm back and up while grappling with its owner until he pinned them in a successful headlock. He could barely feel the other blows pounding his body.

Once he got hold of his prey's mask and pulled it off, it was all over.

"Cadet Gimm," Thrawn said, panting and holding him steady when he struggled. "You should not have followed me here."


	16. SalvatIIon?

I'm a fighter. I believe in the eye-for-an-eye business. I'm no cheek turner. I got no respect for a man who won't hit back. You kill my dog; you better hide your cat.

-Muhammad Ali

**Chapter Sixteen: SalvatIIon?**

Spenc didn't like that Rosita was keeping her face buried in Kalin's pillow; it stifled the sound of her moans.

He shifted his weight only to settle back down to lay over the backs of her thighs, prodding her in little semi-circles with his finger. The poor thing really hadn't a clue what she was in for, not really. He sat up and settled himself between her legs.

"You're sure Kalin won't come back tonight?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, lifting her face to groan deliciously when he slipped another lubed-up digit in her.

"You better be right about that. She'd go straight to Deenlark if she saw us using her bed this way. You know that, right?"

Rosita grunted, whether in understanding or discomfort it was hard to say at the moment.

He pulled out his fingers and pressed his cock down over her crack, it reached up to her lumbar region like a thick tail. "Just look at that," he said. "It's crazy, because you'd think it wouldn't fit but you know it will." He rubbed the head against her back, smearing her with his precum.

When Spenc and Rosita conspired with his sister on how best to handle Thrawn, it was decided that using a lone attacker to deliver one punishing blow would look suspicious, what with the race only days away. Kyria, much to Spenc's delight, suggested they swarm him with numbers instead. Bouts of gang violence happened even on the high levels of Coruscant she had remarked, so it wouldn't look out of the ordinary.

Because Thrawn was a near-human, Kyria was able to make estimations on where best to focus their efforts and where to avoid for risk of accidental death. Spenc squirmed in his seat as she listed out possible injuries. He would deliver them all if he could, and he said so, only Kyria and Rosita wouldn't hear it. They suggested—no demanded he not partake.

"Thrawn would recognize you," Rosita had said.

"Dad won't bail you out this time," Kyria had reminded him.

On and on they went, he only relented when Rosita promised she would do him a favor in return. Anything he wanted, she said. _An-y-thing._ So, on the way back to campus he made his demands known: The only way he was missing the fight was if Rosita let him in her ass until he was finished. And when he did finish, it would be on her harpy of a roommate's bed.

Spenc was particularly adamant about that last part. He loathed Kalin about as much as she loathed him.

And so here they were, Rosita's fingers curled in Kalin's sheets and the springs of her mattress giving way to his knees.

"You know," he began conversationally, smacking himself against her bottom. "For this to work you'll have to relax. Are you capable?" he leaned over and added in a low voice, "You don't want me slowing you down for the race as well."

He grinned slyly when she turned to glower at him over her shoulder.

"Lay on your back," he said lightly, "I want to see your face when I do it."

She was oddly complacent— considering her mood earlier, but he wasn't going to dwell on that now. He sat back and watched her turn around, first straightening out the towel below her back.

He made a show of lubing himself up to help ease her mind. He had enough experience to know she required more preparation for someone his size, but the pain was half the fun and he was so very tired of waiting.

"They say it helps to breathe deeply," he said, before beginning his descent.

How she whimpered. The sound was deep and guttural, and Spenc could swear he could feel it in his dick. He held himself propped up on his elbow and focused on where they were connected, a thick black serpent was trying to disappear behind a smooth pink and white flower.

She held the very, very tip of him in an unyielding grip and he fought against that instinct which screamed, "MORE!" This required him to breathe in deep through the nostrils, fist the sheets, and focus on the feeling of his sweat beading on his forehead.

Crisis diverted. He smothered her chest with his and stayed there, unmoving, allowing her the chance to slowly accept him.

Between her body's natural instinct to push objects out of her colon and her hands pushing against his thighs, he knew they were in for the long game. He awarded himself for his patience by melding his tongue with hers and swallowing her moans.

Kissing seemed to help the process, as he was able to very gradually inch his way deeper to cradle more of himself inside her.

"How's that?" he murmured throatily.

"No more."

"Not yet," he agreed, leaning down to kiss her again. He broke off to ask, "Does it hurt very much?"

She buried her face in his neck and told him, "Yes."

He cooed sympathetically, but when he pulled away to look her in the face, he wore a smile that said he'd have it no other way.

They made it all the way when she dug her nails in his thighs.

"Wait!" she cried, and her face was twisted in the most satisfying way. He pulled out a bit, to get her used to the feeling, then pushed back in. It was the getting back in part that really made her squeal. He claimed her lips again and swallowed more of her moans.

"I said wait!" she hissed, pulling her mouth away.

'_Alright!_' he thought, eyes rolling back into his skull with pleasure.

And then—

—One of their commlinks buzzed angrily against the floor.

Rosita immediately tensed up.

"No, no, don't do that," he said, holding his position against her muscles as they tried to shut him out.

"Better get that," she replied, twisting herself free.

Cursing, Spenc reached for his pants and grabbed his comm from the pocket, then he looked down at the name of the wretch he was going to kill.

Vladek Piles.

He turned the volume down before answering. "Are you dim?"

"It's Gimm! Thrawn saw his face! He has him now!"

_Thrawn saw his face? He has him now? _Spenc pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm hanging up now," he said monotonously.

"I mean it," Piles snapped. "Thrawn got a hold of him and ripped it off!"

"Where are you?"

"In the speeder—we ran!"

"So, you're saying you left Gilroy there?"

"We had to!"

"Why didn't you take care of Thrawn first?"

"What do you mean? We _**were**_ taking care of him, that's when he ripped Gimm's mask off!"

Piles was clearly beside himself with panic—this was no joke.

Spenc stood up and spat into the device, "You should have bashed his head in and made him an unreliable witness!"

"Keep your voice down," Rosita hissed. He slapped her hand away when she attempted to snatch his comm from his hand.

"I swear," Piles griped. "It was like he knew we were coming. He knew! He led us where we couldn't see!"

Spenc filed that bit of information away for later. "Just stick to the plan," he growled. "Boervox and the Nateels need to get to the Simulation Room, tell them to play some games. Remember, it's just an ordinary night. Gilroy won't name any of us, he has his grandmother to get him out of this."

"And if he does?"

He couldn't even conceive the notion. He told Piles to meet him at his room then hung up.

"What happened?" Rosita asked, her hands moving up to her mouth.

**…**

Spenc made his way down to the physical training department only to see Thrawn and Vanto were already there, sitting on the low bench outside the doors leading to the offices. He leaned on the wall opposite of them and waited, avoiding their gazes by scrolling through his datapad.

It had been a tumultuous and trying day and he knew it was only about to get worse.

Major Garber, the head of the physical training department stuck his head out of the door and called not just for him but Thrawn and Vanto as well.

Inside Garber's office were a desk and three chairs. Thrawn and Vanto took the two spares, leaving Spenc to stand by the door. He crossed his arms and tried to keep his expression neutral.

"Five students in your program are no longer with us," Garber began, "Two of which were on your team for the upcoming relay, Orbar."

"Gimm and Piles," Spenc cocked his head, really trying to sell that confounded look. "Where are they?"

"That I don't know," he replied. "Fortunately for you, Lieutenant Thrawn and Cadet Vanto here have a team of two—you will be their third."

"With all due respect—" Spenc began, but Garber cut him off by raising his hand.

"Those are Commandant Deenlark's orders," he said as if that were all he needed to know. "Now, to ensure this goes smoothly I'll mediate your role assigning. Orbar, you first, what will it be? The dive, the butterfly or freestyle?"

"I'll do the dive," he said at once.

Vanto's head snapped in his direction. "I was doing the dive for our team," he whinged.

"That was when it was you and Thrawn," Spenc sneered. "Now I'm on your team."

"Cadet Gimm was your diver," Thrawn said mildly.

The sniffing cretin hadn't the nerve to turn and face him when he said it, but Spenc could picture that little smirk of his. If only he hadn't let his womenfolk talk him out of joining the fight, things would have ended differently. He noticed earlier that not one of them managed to cause any damage to Thrawn's face, and why? Because Thrawn had known what was coming. He had led them into the dark where because of those freakish eyes of his he had an advantage.

"Yes, he was," Spenc replied. "But Gimm's not here and I so wanted to be our team's diver at first."

"Very good," Garber said. "You should be prepared for any role thrown at you, so, Vanto, would you like to do the butterfly or freestyle portion?"

"Freestyle," Vanto replied in a dull monotonous voice.

Spenc smirked—at least he would have some balm for his bruises.

"That leaves Lieutenant Thrawn for the butterfly," Garber said briskly. "Alright, you're dismissed. I'm sure you have much to discuss."

Spenc wrenched the door open and head out of there as quickly as his feet would allow. He would find Rosita and they would discuss the real reason she wanted to end the fight.

* * *

If being kind goes against some people's nature, is it cruel to stop them from being cruel? Or should we stop them for the greater good? If yes, we are saying unequivocally that the needs of the many outweighs the needs of a few. I can appreciate the logic in that; it's simple numbers, but doesn't this prove the inescapability of our hypocrisy? In a Yutopia our actions wouldn't have consequences and so we could all do whatever we pleased. But our actions do have consequences and so we must consider our actions.

What really scares me is the smarter I become the more aware I become of my stupidity and limitations, only then I realize many people don't share this self-awareness; they truly believe that their POV is the only correct POV. Imagine reading a story in which every character thought the same—literally nothing would happen! So I ask you this: do you really want everyone to think just like you? I certainly don't, that's why I use different narrators for every character POV. We are all limited by our own perceptions and experiences.


	17. Play Through the Pain

**Chapter Seventeen: Play Through the Pain**

"What are you doing with your leg?" Dibbs asked Rosita through a mouthful of food.

Rosita ground the heel of her boot into the floor to stop her leg from shaking and muttered a quick apology.

Dibbs had barely finished swallowing when she asked, "Can I have your tart? It's kind of just… sitting there."

"Go for it," she replied. "I'm not feeling very hungry."

"You didn't eat breakfast or lunch either," Kalin noted. "Sometimes I get like that before a competition. But I eat through it. Go on, eat." She leaned forward and tapped Rosita's tray with her fork and said, "Dibbs, put her tart down. You know you shouldn't be overeating this close to the swim."

"I'm eating the damn tart, carbs make me swim faster."

Not feeling in the mood to listen to another fitness debate between her two friends Rosita's eyes flickered towards the doors of the mess. Still no sign of Spenc or any of the others. She was hit with another wave of nausea.

"I don't know why you're so worried," Dibbs said, nibbling away. "We've got this."

She was about to answer when Tagge appeared, very much hyped up and ready to spill something.

"You guys are not going to believe this!" she slid onto the bench beside Kalin with her datapad clasped between her palm and chest. "Guess who got discharged? Guess."

Tagge worked in the administration department, so it was no surprise that she was up to speed on things, but for them to get discharged so quickly? Tagge had been wrong before. It was possible her information was wrong now.

Rosita certainly hoped it was.

"Who?" Pedra asked.

"Uhm, let me see," She held up her hand and started ticking off fingers. "Boervox, Gimm, Azeus **_and_** Glouson, and Piles. Yeah! All discharged!" She threw her head back and giggled maniacally. "Can you believe it?"

"I mean, it's a bit overdue," Pedra remarked. "You didn't say Orbar though."

"No, he wasn't, just those five."

"That's too bad," Kalin muttered. She shrugged, looking unapologetic when Rosita turned to stare imploringly at her.

"That's two teams down," Tagge said. "Sounds good to me. If my team wins, I'm donating my share of the prize to Higher Skies. They help those who are less fortunate on the lower levels."

"I really doubt your team's going to win," Rosita said, spearing a piece of fruit with her fork and sticking it between her teeth. "But what a noble dream."

"Every one of us has a chance to win," Pedra retorted. "If my team wins, we're donating all 15,000 to Furbies. They're a charity that helps orphaned Wookiees on Kashyyyk"

_'Furbies_?' Rosita thought with a snort._ 'How clever. They must love that.'_

"I think I'm donating my share to Higher Skies as well," Dibbs said. "It's getting pretty bad down there."

"Who are you donating to, Turuy?" Pedra asked.

"A herd of Muuns," she drawled back. "Have any of you seen Spenc?"

"I saw him on my way here actually," Tagge said.

"Where?" she slung one of her legs over the bench and dragged her tray forward.

"Leaving out the main atrium."

"Thanks." Rosita got up and made her way out.

Spenc wouldn't answer any of her calls, but to get back to the dorms he'd have to go through the main atrium, so she found herself a seat with a good view of the entrances and waited. As time crawled on, she wondered if he was coming back at all. It wasn't like he was allowed to just go sleep off-campus without first getting a leave pass. Unless he did get one. Without telling her.

She shoved her hand into her pocket and yanked her comm out. She was about to call him again when, finally, he came through the front doors.

"Where'd you go?" she asked, marching up and stopping him in his tracks.

"For a walk," he said, his face and voice void of expression. "I knew I had to clear my head before I could see you."

"Okay…" she trailed off, dragging her bottom lip through her teeth. "So… Tagge told us at supper that—" she lowered her voice. "Were they really discharged?"

"I don't know. Possibly." He stared down past her at the ground. "I was ordered to be Thrawn and Vanto's third for the relay."

"No!"

He nodded and folded his hands up into his armpits.

"Will you do it?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Can we go somewhere to talk?"

"Yes."

She placed her hand on the small of his back and began steering him in the direction of the barracks.

"You were right," he said quietly. "We should've called it off. Had I known Gimm was a squealer I would have listened to you."

"Maybe he isn't."

"How did they know who else to go for? Why didn't they have to interrogate us as well? Thrawn must've told them there were four others and they made Gilroy say who they were."

"You don't know that. They could have just put two and two together. Ludan would have vouched for us, so they must have assumed—"

"—People like us don't get expelled from places based on assumptions," Spenc shot across her. "Gilroy squealed." He wound his arm around her back and took over steering them in the right direction. "It's like I said, I should have listened to you."

When Spenc's room door slid shut after them Rosita couldn't help but stare longingly at it, kind of wishing she was on the other side.

"You know what," he continued from behind her. "I think I'm being hard on myself. I shouldn't have to shoulder all the blame."

She turned and stared at him, lifting her eyebrows in question.

"It was your idea to go after Thrawn in the first place, so in a way, this is your fault."

Her mouth opened but no words came out.

Spenc chortled softly and rubbed his hands down her arms. "Just a joke."

"Right."

He shrugged. "I should've gone to help them. I don't know why I let you make that promise to me."

"You should be grateful," she said, crossing her arms.

His bout of laughter ended as suddenly as it began. "Maybe I am grateful," he said. "Do you remember what you said you'd do for me for having to miss the fight?"

"Stars…" she groaned with a roll of the eyes.

"I believe you said I could go until I finished."

She backed up a step. "And you'll get to… one day."

"I want to now."

"We can't. I need to be in top shape for the race."

"After everything that's happened today, that's where your heads at? On the race?"

"It's still happening, isn't it? So I have to think about it."

He stared at her in silence, waiting for her to give him his way.

"Can't it wait, Spenc? It's not as easy as you just asking for it," she said. "I'm unprepared."

"I don't mind."

She frowned deeply and felt—not for the first time in her life—a bizarre mix of disgust and intrigue.

"Are you going to keep your word and finish this?" He placed a hand to rest heavily on her shoulder. "Or are you like Gilroy: a filthy, stinking womprat?"

"I want to finish it."

He leaned down to kiss her, but she dodged his mouth to say, "You said you'd be gentle."

He shrugged, his fingers moving to the buttons of her shirt.

"I need this win, Spenc. I really need it."

"I'm doing the dive for my team. I'm going to make it so Thrawn and Vanto don't get to touch the water. If you still feel you can beat everyone else, then the prize is yours."

Rosita was bombarded with an influx of emotions: excitement, guilt, fear, but now, most of all, arousal.

She was going to win!

It was a shame about Gimm and the others, but what happened to them wasn't her fault. She tried to call off the fight. Even Spenc saw that and took responsibility. She slithered up against him and brushed his lips with hers, nipping at them until he pulled back.

"Until I finish, right?" he asked. "Like we agreed?"

"As long as you're careful—like we agreed."

His mouth found her neck and she let him push her back towards the bed, relieving herself of her clothing along the way. She sat down and lifted her legs, spreading her knees and reaching down to stroke herself until her fingers were soaked.

"Our lube is in my room," she said, meeting his gaze and moving her hand so he could see her better.

"I'm sure Gilroy has some. A lot of his things are still here." Spenc disappeared behind the privacy wall that separated his side of the room from Gimm's, then he returned with a little squeeze bottle pinched between two fingers. "Here," he said, tossing it at her. "Put some on."

"Okay…" She, like Spenc, held the sticky bottle with as little of her hands as possible. He was only too eager to help lubricate her the other night, but given everything that had transpired that day it made sense that he wasn't completely up to his usual standard. She slathered herself up good with the lube before squirting more on her fingers and saying, "Now you."

"Now me," he agreed while unzipping his pants.

It was a definite surprise to see him soft, considering how she was on full display and totally game. But eventually she got him to stand at attention by using her lubed-up fingers, and she delighted at how he threw his head back with a heavy sigh.

"Leave it," he said when she went to undo his belt. "Get on your knees."

When she complied, he grabbed her by the waist to draw her in close, trapping his cock between his stomach and her buttocks.

"I wanted this so bad," he said, hooking his thumb in her asshole. "Remember all the times I've asked you for it?"

"Yes," she replied, groaning when he moved the digit around. The discomfort brought pleasure, as did the sound of his voice. She grasped for his pillow like it was jetsam and slid it under her chest as if she too was thrown overboard.

"You always promised me we would one day." Spenc took his thumb out and she immediately felt self-conscious about it, but he went on to press against her with the tip of his cock and stayed there without making any complaints, enticing her with his patience.

Rosita reminded herself that she was going to be 5000 credits richer tomorrow and relaxed enough to take a bit of him, all by herself.

"I always had hope and all I wanted was you," he continued. "Why do you think that is?" he slid a hand over her back, up and down, but he didn't move his hips. Not one bit...

She turned to look over her shoulder and saw that he wasn't staring at her at all, instead he looked straight ahead at the wall above his headboard. That's when she knew this was all wrong. Spenc didn't like to talk much during, and when he did it was never to ask questions that required long-winded answers, so why now, when she was trying to swallow him whole?

"Spenc?"

He looked down at her and asked, "Why did you really want to end the fight?"

It was instantaneous—her muscles strangled him in guilt and she winced from the pain it caused.

"Tell me, Rosita, or I swear I'll make it so there isn't a doctor in this galaxy who can put you together again."

"Tell you what?"

His fingers tightened around her waist. "Why did you want to end the fight?" he repeated.

"I already told you."

"Rosita, might I remind you what's at stake here? I can rip you apart and I can get away with it, and if I don't get away with it, I'll take you down with me. I've kept a lot of your secrets over the years."

She opted to remain as still as possible, taking in a deep breath and willing herself to relax. To remain calm was the only way she would get out of this. She couldn't very well tell him now. "I had a bad feeling it would backfire, and it did," she said, trying to sound flippant.

"Hm. See, the thing is, Cormac told me Thrawn knew they were coming for him. How would Thrawn know that?"

"I don't know. He's smart I guess. And how did Piles know? Did Thrawn say something to him?"

"Rosita." Spenc made her name sound like a curse, and all at once she knew that lying wasn't going to work this time.

"All I told him was to be careful. That's it."

"Who? Who did you tell to be careful?"

"Thrawn," she replied. "That's what I said. Be careful."

"Tell me exactly what you said."

"I said…" she trailed off and sighed.

He pulled out, only to shove his way back in, forcing a loud glottal moan to pass her lips.

"Isaidbecarefulouttheretonight!" she said in a rush. "Okay? That's all!"

"And what did Thrawn say?"

"Nothing!"

"Nothing?"

"No!"

It felt like Spenc cut her on the way out, then he released her so suddenly and with such force that she fell forward onto the mattress. Never before had she felt so empty—it was a relief that came with a terrible price.

"So it's true," he began sneeringly, "You came on your knees with your mouth open, buttered me up with your little plan, then turned on me at the last second. Why?"

"I don't know," she muttered into the sheets.

He scoffed. "You may not know this, but not all of my friends are well off. Cormac and his parents worked hard to save up to get him here. And despite appearances, this fucking dung hole means everything to Gilroy!"

"It was a mistake!" she cried. "Thrawn was being so helpful. It felt wrong to go through with it!"

"You could have told me that in the change room!" he growled. "If you had, I would have run out there and put a stop to it. But you didn't, and now they're all gone because of you, and I have to go embarrass myself out there tomorrow!"

"I couldn't tell you, you would've been furious! For all I knew, you would have gone out and done something stupid to get back at me!"

He didn't budge.

"And I couldn't believe what I did, I couldn't even say what I did. It was an honest mistake—it just happened. Things just happen sometimes!"

"You're ruined now," he said flatly.

_'Ruined?'_ she thought, getting up on her knees and facing him. "Excuse me?"

"You let him in your head and he ruined you," he returned coldly. "After everything these aliens have done to humans over the centuries, you decided to side with one, over _**us**_? I can't choose you over us." His top lip curled up at one side and he shook his head. "We're done."

She scrambled off the mattress and stood up. "What do you want me to say?" she cried out. "It happened. I tried to fix it but you wouldn't listen to me! Why should I have had to explain myself? Why couldn't you just listen for once?"

"Get out." He thrust his head towards the door and tucked his dick back in his pants.

It was his calm demeanor that undid her.

"Spenc, what-the-fuck?" she spat. "You're dumping me now? The night before the race?"

In hindsight, she shouldn't have mentioned the race. He scoffed, looking completely disgusted, then turned and head for the door himself.

**…**

Rosita understood her mother a bit better now. Here she was, on the day of the race, wrapped up in her blankets with no desire to move.

As someone who had studied Imperial interrogation methods for the last 4 years, Rosita felt she had to give Spenc some serious credit for his ingenuity.

Who needed a fully equipped interrogation droid, when you slung a pole between your legs and your perp had the mind to offer their asshole on a platter?

_"Tell me, Rosita, or I swear I'll make it so there isn't a doctor in this galaxy who can put you together again."_

What other choice did she have but to confess what she had done? The last thing she needed was having to take a trip to the infirmary to have her rectum pumped with _Romayde Numbing Bacta Serum._

The buzz on her door's intercom went off. She buried herself deeper into her blankets.

"You in there?" Dibbs voice sounded through the speaker.

"Why aren't you dressed?" she asked when the door slid open. "Did Kalin already head down?"

"Yeah."

"You look like you've been crying."

Rosita hated how red and swollen her eyes got whenever she cried even just a little.

"Long story. Let me get my bag."

"Are your nerves acting up again?"

"No," she said briskly. "Spenc and I split up last night."

"You've never cried about that before."

"This time it's different. This time it's for real."

"Really?"

Dibbs could be trusted. Rosita went on to explain everything that happened, save for a few details here and there.

"You arranged to have Thrawn attacked?"

"We just wanted to level the playing field a bit."

"So then why did you warn him first? Did you want Piles and them out the way too?"

"No! I thought Thrawn would run for it, not lure them into some kind of trap."

"Hm. I guess he really screwed you over then."

"Yes, he really did. Why I thought I could trust an alien is beyond me. One momentary lapse in judgment and now all this."

Dibbs crossed her arms with a chuckle. "A momentary lapse in judgment? You mean like when I put Irithroxylace in his and Vanto's drinks?"

"That was not the same."

"Maybe not, but you of all people should know how persuasive Spenc can be."

"I do. Anyways, you've already gotten away with that one. I, however, am kriffed."

"It doesn't matter," Dibbs said. "We'll talk about this after the race." She reached out and grabbed Rosita by the shoulders and put her face right up into her own and said, "Let's go do this!"

Rosita rubbed a hand down her face and smoothed back her hair. "How do I look?"

"Like a fucking winner."

**…**

The energy in the shower was positive. Shouts of, "Good luck," and "Aww, you too!" echoed off the walls.

"Where's Muanung?" Tagge called out through the steam.

"Oxygen chamber," Dibbs called back.

"You guys are lucky to have her."

"We know," Dibbs said.

They really were. It went exactly the way Rosita expected it to go. Kalin had been the first diver out with all fifteen medallions accounted for. Dibbs dove in and made it to the other side of the pool before Hatseen even touched the water.

Rosita leaned forward on the starter block and watched as she cut through the water, getting ever closer. She chanced a glance up at Kalin who stood on the opposite end of their lane holding her knees and screaming intensely.

Dibbs maintained her lead for all four laps but Hatseen was getting too close for comfort.

"FASTER!" Rosita hollered, slapping her thighs. "COME ON!"

When Dibbs slapped the board, Rosita made the switch and drove herself through the water, the roar of the crowd sounded otherworldly on the other side and the pain of her loss was just nonsense now.

_Pull, up, breath, down, pull, up, breathe, down, pull, up, breath, down._

Her fingers touched the wall and she twisted around and kicked off the side, putting it all back into her melodie kick. She flicked her legs like a whip again and again and again and chopped the water with her arms.

_Pull, up, breath, down, pull, up, breathe, down, FASTER! FASTER! FASTER! WIN! WIN! WIN!_

Rosita finished, her hand slapped the board and she could finally feel again. First the pain in her palm, then the searing one in her mind. She turned her head and saw Lighton, Lebsius, and Baseline were also at the wall. Had she made it there first?

When Dibbs helped pull her out, she stood panting heavily on shaking legs. One of the first-year volunteers held out a towel. She snatched it from his hand and wrapped it around her shoulders before turning to the scoreboard.

"We're nine seconds in the lead," Kalin said.

"Good," Rosita replied.

"It sucks to be in round two," Dibbs said. "We'll have to sit through seven more and watch them all claw at our bar."

"Let them try," Rosita looked up into the stands and found Spenc glowering to himself between Thrawn and Vanto.

Did he really think she was going to let him spoil this for her?


	18. The Vantos

Everything is a test.

**Chapter Eighteen: The Vantos**

Thrawn closed his eyes and allowed the cold water from the showerhead to warm himself. It felt like home. He swirled liquid soap under his arms, the suds enlaced his fingers in white and invoked vivid images in his mind's eye.

He saw a red dwarf star, faint and everlasting. Orbiting it was a single planet. A white jewel. His Csilla, with its steaming furnaces which warmed towering caves with heat directly from the planet's mantle. He saw stone walls that glittered with minerals and Chiss technology, and Chiss faces amongst it all.

What he wouldn't give to be under there—what he wouldn't do to protect it all.

"Hurry up."

The order cut through pleasant memories. Thrawn's hand paused on his abdomen and his eyes darted to the side to regard Orbar's impatient figure. "Eager for victory?" he asked while rinsing soap from his armpit.

Orbar wore a scowl to match the arms held taught at his sides. He jerked his head down to ask, "What was that?"

Thrawn reached forward and turned his water off, then plucked his small white towel from a hook before draping it around his neck. Orbar rewarded his silence by turning and making his way out to the line. Thrawn watched his progress through hooded eyes while working his swim cap over his wet hair.

The pool room was hot and cloyingly humid, but he didn't mind. He liked the scent of the water's cleaning chemicals. What he could do without, however, was the roar of the crowd. He retreated into his mind and drowned out the sound as they made their way to the section reserved for them, the competitors.

On each row of benches, placed evenly apart, sat little holobits with their names floating in glowing green letters. He passed Turuy's name in the fourth row and followed Orbar up to the stairs behind the line of triads who had not yet found their seats.

Thrawn saw his name glowing in the eighth row, with Orbar between him and Vanto. When they sat, Orbar bunched his towel into a ball and placed it between himself and Thrawn while keeping his gaze fixed firmly ahead.

Around him, cadets searched high and low for their families and well-wishers within the crowd. Cadet Vanto was one of them, though he had confessed that none of his family would be able to make the journey to the Core to support him. Thrawn turned and scanned the crowd between ads that glowed from holobits embedded in the railings.

"My parents are here," Vanto said in astonishment.

"So they came," Thrawn said.

"Yeah, it looks like," he replied, lifting one of his hands to wave, before snapping back around, both torso and face stained red, and a small smile twitching on his lips.

"I am eager to meet them," Thrawn said as his lips also twitched into a smile.

"I'll introduce you, but..." Vanto fell silent and he tugged on the edge of his swim cap. "Well, I'll introduce you."

There was no need to question Vanto's uncertainties about the matter; Thrawn had experience with humans from the far outskirts. He knew some of their tales and superstitions.

His gaze made its way back towards the pool and he spotted Turuy, her body half-turned in her seat with her gaze pinned on Orbar, who looked determinedly ahead to ignore her futile attempts to communicate with him.

She must have felt Thrawn's eyes on her. Her head snapped his way, eyes narrowing in accusation?

He ran his thumb over the stitching of the Academy's emblem on his jammer shorts but held her gaze. It wasn't until the music faded out and the announcers began to speak that Turuy turned back around, freeing him of her continued scrutiny. He allowed his lips the freedom to quirk up at both sides. Commandant Deenlark made lofty introductions and Major Garber made his expectations clear, then the first divers stepped up and got ready.

A sharp _**PEEP**_ signaled the divers to be ready, and a second _**PEEP**_ sent them into the water. First-round revealed no threat, with the best time clocking in at thirty-eight minutes and eight seconds. The scoreboard lit up with the names of the upcoming competitors and their lanes. Dibbs, Muanung and Turuy were to race in lane six.

"A stiff line-up," Orbar muttered, shifting in his seat. "Hatseen, Lebsius _and_ Baseline. Let's see how you do now."

**Peep!** The divers readied themselves.

_**Peep!**_ The divers propelled themselves off their starting positions and into the water.

Muanung had surfaced first at an impressive thirteen minutes and thirty-nine seconds. She placed all fifteen of her medallions in her lane's counter, pulled herself out of the water in one fluid movement, and her teammate Dibbs dove in. Dibbs's freestyle was more than satisfactory. She moved her bulk quite well through the water.

Next in was Hatseen. He was long-limbed and held a height advantage over Dibbs, and though he lacked her muscular definition, he cut through the water expertly and was able to close the distance between them for the final stretch.

Dibbs must have held back, knowing she had a head start. She used that surplus of energy and was the first at the wall.

Turuy was in the moment Dibbs's hand slapped the board. She launched herself through the water. Her form perfect.

Thrawn spared a glance over at Orbar, who reached up to rake his fingers over his shoulder. His nails left angry red lines against his dark brown skin, before cooling to reveal pale white scratches. Scratch marks appeared white like that against Thrawn's skin as well.

When he returned to watching the race, Baseline had taken the lead.

_'Have you more to show, Turuy?'_ he wondered.

She had. They were neck-and-neck now, both appearing to be swimming at their fastest. Then Baseline fell behind. The distance between Baseline and Turuy grew farther and farther before Lighton and Lebsius closed in on him. The lanes were full, and all appeared to be digging deep for the butterfly stroke. But Turuy left them all behind.

The cadets in the crowd were up in their seats, egging them on, screaming her name.

Turuy slapped the board, her body arced out of the water as she took in a final breath. She had done it. Her team led the board at twenty-seven minutes and forty-three seconds, and they held their spot until the final round.

Thrawn was relatively confident she would take the win, though he was not one to underestimate the power of a spurned lover. He considered Orbar's muscular back as they made their way down the stairs to the pool.

From what he had gathered from their shared classes, Orbar was not an utter fool. Turuy was visibly upset, and he was ignoring her. It was safe to conclude that the tension between them had everything to do with their comrades' supposed disappearance. Had she confessed her part willingly? Would Orbar punish her further by helping him and Vanto take the win? Or had they come to an agreement, despite her betrayal?

So many questions. He would soon get the answers.

They gathered around the starter block of lane four while Orbar suited up in his rebreather harness and took his position. _**PEEP!**_ He stooped low. _**PEEP!**_ He rolled into the water.

Thrawn was able to follow his progress through the pool. He stopped in the middle, turned himself upright so he could watch five other divers rush past him on their way to the bottom-most cave. Cave BX-379, a dark hole in the pool floor, riddled with sharp and jagged obstacle walls.

Pedra had told him and Vanto that only four divers should descend into it at once. Any more and it increased their chances of entangling their equipment with the obstacles thus slowing down everyone in the process. Thrawn suspected Orbar knew this, as he followed the other divers to the cave at a leisurely pace.

Orbar could fix the race how he pleased—Thrawn had gotten what he wanted. His gaze found Turuy up in the stands.

When Orbar surfaced, it was to the sound of jeers and boos. Thrawn scanned the crowd and saw it was coming from the other cadets. Vanto stood dry on the starter block, his eyes fixed on the water, his torso, neck, and ears blazing red.

The scoreboard lit up with the final score.

1 Dibbs Muanung Turuy 27:43

2 Baseline Hatseen Tagge 27:52

3 Barrgs Maverly Pedra 33:02

And down at the very bottom, in 96th place, was: Thrawn Orbar Vanto.

Commandant Deenlark stopped in front of their lane. His spotless white trainers stood in the pool of water that dripped from Orbar and his gear. "How very like you," he began in a low timbre, "to ruin the day for everyone else."

Orbar's head tilted to the side so that his ear threatened to touch his shoulder. "What do you mean, Sir?"

Deenlark's nose wrinkled ever so slightly. "Yes, it's always confusion with you. Find your seats. Your families will be free to join you after the medal ceremony." He finished and nodded Thrawn's way as he passed. "Lieutenant."

The cadets sat in their seats and discussed the race in loud conversations that mingled with the cacophony of the crowd, while preparations were underway on the deck.

"Orbar, why did you dive when you're a much better swimmer?" Cadet Kravus asked.

"I wanted to," he replied.

"Your team would have won had you not," Pedra said. "Are you that much of a bigot that you would sabotage yourself?" she rolled her eyes and looked directly at Thrawn with a look to say, _you and I understand, right?_

Thrawn blinked at her.

"Think what you want," Orbar said with a shrug. "Truth is, we'll never know."

Before the matter could be discussed any further, Commandant Deenlark took his place by the podium, and the three teams who placed were called for.

Turuy pulsated with colour as she stepped up on the podium with her team, more vibrant of a red than the others. Thrawn frowned. The win meant more for her?

They all bent at the waist, one by one so that Deenlark could slip their medals over their heads to rest against their necks.

He wondered at that—her pride in these circumstances. In a competition between athletes, no cheater could win—unless she was only after the credits, and not the glory. What was Turuy's financial situation? A majority of the students at the Royal Imperial Academy were of wealth and privilege, but Vanto did say some students earned their seats through academic or physical prowess. Was she one of these chosen few?

…

After showering and dressing, the Cadets migrated to the parade grounds to find their families and enjoy refreshments.

"Look, here come my parents," Vanto said. His parents were short of stature and dressed more formal than the others. _'They aim to fit in,'_ Thrawn thought, watching them cross the field. They were tentative in their steps, their strides halting so that they could regroup and offer encouragement into each other's ear.

"Mom! Dad!" Vanto exclaimed once they came within earshot. "You made it."

They remained several steps away. The woman— Mrs. Vanto—played with a ring on her finger.

"We managed to find the time and wanted it to be a surprise," Mr. Vanto answered.

"Such a shame to not see you swim after coming all this way," his mother added.

"I was surprised you didn't dive. Your teammate… he wasn't very good, was he?"

Mr. and Mrs. Vanto's body language revealed how aware they were of Thrawn's proximity. How anxious they were by it. They kept their arms folded tightly and kept their glances fleeting—he even detected the first traces of sweat on Mr. Vanto's upper lip.

Vanto remedied the situation. "This is Thrawn. Lieutenant Thrawn. My teammate."

"Yeah, and he—" Mrs. Vanto broke off, her eyes widening, as if not believing what it was they saw. "You're a Chiss, like Eli said?"

"I am," Thrawn confirmed with a grave nod of the head. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

"We've heard some things about… your kind—your people—the Chiss," Mr. Vanto took off his cap and clenched it in two tight fists.

It was hard to discern whose face was reddest at the moment. Cadet Vanto, his mother, or his father.

"Flatteries," Thrawn said, feeling a genuine smile moving his cheek. "The stories we choose to tell reveal not only the characters of the plot, but the character of the storytellers as well. Your son proves himself to be rational."

"Ice demons!" Mr. Vanto blurted out suddenly.

"No," Thrawn began patiently, over the sound of Cadet Vanto's groan. "We are not spirits of ice possessing the bodies of humans." He had smirked to himself when Vanto had told him this myth one night."I promise you," he added reassuringly.

Mr. Vanto exhaled with relief.

Thrawn closed his eyes and sniffed softly through his nostrils, bowing his head slightly in Mr. Vanto's direction.

"Is this your little team, Spenc?" A new voice came from behind them. Thrawn turned to see a woman standing close to Orbar. They shared similar features. His sister perhaps? She grinned at him.

"You knew that already," Orbar began in a bored tone. "Let's go, I'd like to speak with the Tagges."

"Oh, but you _must_ introduce me first."

"No."

"You'll have to excuse my little brother," she began. "He doesn't understand. The tensions between humans and aliens is but a small detail in an intricate plot to keep the poor and ignorant from sniffing at our fortunes." She held out a small hand to Thrawn. "I'm Kyria," she drawled, her grin shrinking to a pout.

"Disinformation, to divide and conquer," Thrawn said, taking it and kissing it.

She withdrew and tapped her nose. "Thrawn and Eli Vanto, is that right?"

"It is." Thrawn confirmed. "And you are Orbar's—" he paused consideringly, "Sister?"

"Yes." She turned to the Vantos, her pout curling up at the side in such a perfect replica of Orbar's own sneer that Thrawn wondered if it was hereditary. "You're from Wild Space, then?" she added.

Vanto nodded stiffly.

"I hear it's cold there."

"Where?" he asked frowning.

"Everywhere. Who cares? It's Wild Space." Kyria wrapped an arm around Orbar's shoulder and began pulling him away. "Come, let's go congratulate Rosita on her win." He protested as she took him away.

"Where will you go once you've graduated, Lieutenant Thrawn?" Mrs. Vanto stopped playing with her ring and though she spoke to him, her attention was firmly on the Orbars' retreating backs.

"Wherever the Empire needs me to go."

"That could be anywhere," she replied. "It's a good thing you have a position waiting for you near home, Eli. We'll be glad to have you back in our sector. Or close to it, at the very least."

"After a few years posted as a supply technician, why, I reckon you'll turn our company right around. Will you become a supply technician as well, Thrawn?"

"_Lieutenant_ Thrawn." Mrs. Vanto corrected her husband with a tentative smile.

_'Progress,'_ he began to think.

"Yes, yes." Mr. Vanto waved a hand, his eyes meeting Thrawn's for the first time. "You know, no one back home's going to believe that I met a real live Chiss. Can I… I mean, would you pose for a picture with Eli?"

_'Is slow.'_ His thoughts concluded.


	19. Like the Other Girls

A challenge is as good as the pleasure you get out of it.

**Chapter Nineteen: Like the Other Girls**

The next day, classes resumed as normal. After the lunch break, Rosita made her way to the metallurgy lab with Kalin and Dibbs. Of course, Spenc was nowhere to be found. He had skipped their other classes so far that day as well.

Fuck him then.

Rosita tossed her head back and dropped her bag onto a workbench. If he were wise, he'd come to his senses and take her back. As for Thrawn, that slithering, scheming_—_she bit back a smile and pressed her knees together. _'What's your angle, anyway?'_ she wondered, turning to find him leaning down to slip his datapad out from his bag.

She would have some words with him too.

"If you haven't finished your plating," Major Needa began, drawing their attention to the front of the classroom, "It's up to you to complete it on your own time. Come see me and arrange a timeslot to use the lab after hours."

Needa moved across her desk and sat against the very corner of it. "For now, we'll begin another plastoid melt-and-pour sculpture. You'll have one week to design and create moulds for another prototype, only this time, you'll be turning your sculptures into fully functional weapons for your final assignment."

Rosita straightened up and looked around, her heart had jolted with excitement. She wasn't the only one fidgeting in her seat; they had all been anticipating this assignment since year one.

"Further instructions will be uploaded on the Data Vortex. See or message me for further inquiries. Now, begin sketching your designs. You have all the information you need, but this is a time for creativity. Innovation is the word, Cadets."

_'Absolutely!' _Rosita thought. She pulled out her datapad, an idea already taking form in her mind.

It would be sleek and grey, thin but powerful, deceivingly basic in its design. She thought of Vanto and those spud cannons they used in Wild Space—for fun, apparently.

To impress the instructors with a basic pipe structure, she would have to synthesize a superior propellant. One so powerful as to make the minimalism of her blaster's design seem whimsical, rather than primitive. She thought of the _CS Tatent_ coils in her Blaster Rifle's components. Were they allowed to use existing ones to improve upon, or was she expected to design her own? She would have to log onto the Vortex to find out, but something told her to make her own. Grand Moff Tarkin only took the best into his initiative program, after all.

There was time to worry about the logistics later. For now, she began to sketch her heart's desire.

…

Rosita sat in the Damask Study Hall. The fading sun warmed the back of her neck as she scrolled through many blaster schematics and component blueprints. They were all so sleek and beautiful. Speaking of beauty, her eyes flashed to the screen of Dibbs's computer—something red and lacy had caught Rosita's eye. "That dress!" she gushed, eyeing it in hunger. "Is it yours? I've never seen you in something like that."

Dibbs chuckled. "Nope. It's not for me, Carly's wearing it to the Midterm Ball."

Rosita groaned in appreciation, envy, and anticipation of seeing it in person. "She's going to stun us all."

"As always," Dibbs replied with a nod of the head. "We picked it during Galactic City Fashion Week. Got it straight off the runway, so it's one of a kind. I can't wait to see her in it."

They pursed their lips, their eyes glittering wetly in shared understanding.

Rosita pulled up a picture of the dress she had bookmarked. Her next payment was coming up, and, fortunately, it was to be a rather sizable one. "I'm getting this one."

"Oh my," Kalin leaned over from her other side. "It looks just like a Melodie tail, if she had silver scales."

Kalin flexed her fingers and said, "I'm getting one!"

"You're not getting the same dress as me," Rosita said blandly. "That would be stupid."

"Why, are you afraid I'll wear it better?" she asked.

Rosita sniffed but followed it up with a grin. "Can you imagine?" she asked. "If we wore the same dress?"

"Would that be so bad?" Kalin asked. "What do you think?" she said, nudging Dibbs.

"It's a nice dress," Dibbs answered. "You will certainly stand out. Both of you."

"Well, yeah," Rosita said, her eyes moving up from the screen to stare across the room. Thrawn was coming in, and without his pet Vanto trotting along. A rare occurrence. How unfortunate for him. "We'll talk about it later," she said, standing up. Thrawn was crossing the room to the towering shelves of datachips and disappeared between the many rows. She would follow him. He owed her an explanation.

It was apparent that he knew she was standing there right next to him, despite how he pretended to focus on the task at hand. His posture was a little too stiff and alert, his wandering eyes and hands not truly focusing on the datachip cases he was so intent on searching.

"Ever the strong and silent type, aren't you?" she mused. "You know, I can tell the difference between a person who's quiet because they're a coward or as dull as an old credit chip, and a person who's quiet because…" she trailed off.

His hand hovered over a case that read: _Weaponry a Look Inside_. "And a person who is quiet because...?"

"Because they've got it all figured out."

He smirked then finally turned to face her. "Cadet Turuy, I do believe congratulations are in order."

She stared at him for a moment, then she said, "Thank you."

"Yes."

"I'm sure you've heard the many theories and vicious rumours floating around about the validity of my victory. I'm sure you have your questions as well."

His silence was answer enough.

"Even if the teams were left as they were," she began hotly, "My team still would have won." He needed to know this. "I had a lot to prove," she went on, "and I had more to lose. I guess you can say, I was in the zone. Now..." She trailed off and closed her eyes. When she opened them, Thrawn had already turned back to the shelves to continue his search.

"And now, you have come to grasp the price of gold." He sniffed slightly.

"The price of—" she broke off with a scowl. Around them, other cadets milled about. She didn't want to be caught dead speaking with him, so she shouldered her way around him and muttered, "Follow me," from the corner of her mouth.

He did. Rosita led him to the deserted annex she and Spenc used on occasion.

"Well?" she said, turning around to face him. "What happened the other night?"

"You will have to be more specific."

She crossed her arms tightly. Like she would ever say it. "I thought we came to an understanding."

"And what understanding would that be?"

Was he really going to play it this way? She opened her mouth, then closed it. Why did she ever think she could trust him? Her nipples prodded at her arms, the sensation a reminder of precisely what caused her moment of weakness. She looked down and hoped the poor lighting amongst the shelves was enough to hide the embarrassed flush of her cheeks.

"You should have run," she muttered.

"I saw no reason to run," he replied.

"You knew how it would look, at least in the eyes of those who attacked you."

"I aimed to defend myself. Those who came for me seemed eager to have me. I gave them what they wanted, and, in doing so, I safeguarded myself from further harassment."

"You aimed to fuck me," she retorted, a bit more loudly than necessary.

Thrawn cocked an eyebrow. "Fuck," he began, head tilting and eyes boring into her own. "In what way do you mean this word? I know of both its meanings."

Rosita rubbed a hand down her face with a loud and tired sigh, but couldn't stop the bout of laughter from slithering past her lips. She leaned back against the wall and tried hard to think of Spenc and that one last look of disgust he had given her when he dumped her.

"Are you here to work on your weapon design?" Thrawn managed to ask this before she had the chance to picture it accurately.

"Yes. And you?"

"Yes. I wish to learn more about the chemistry used for Imperial weaponry."

"Me too. I'm—" she broke off. Again, she had to remind herself not to trust him.

"Would you like to see what I have sketched so far?"

"Really?" Rosita balked in surprise. Thrawn trusted her with his first drafts?

He did, evidently. He took his datapad from his bag, opened the necessary document, then handed it to her.

"A pistol," she said. It didn't look very innovative in its design, but maybe, just like with hers, that was the point.

"Very nice," she admitted. "A good pistol has its uses. It's practical. The instructors will like that," she added. "For me, I've always wanted a rifle that can not only be used with one hand, but one designed for precisely that." She held her hands out and mimed shooting.

Thrawn seemed to find this amusing, his usually blank façade broke with emotion_—_not a smirk, but a small smile that betrayed everything she needed to know about him.

"Interesting," he said. "Your challenge will be to fit all the necessary parts at a much lighter weight. To present a weapon that you could not use would be foolish."

"I know," she said, envisioning not one but two long, thin barrels, two hollow stocks made with a light alloy weaving, and, inside them, a smaller, optimized capacitor bank with her own synthesized coils that would withstand far higher temperatures than the _CS Tatent_. "I'm working on it."

"If you need a second pair of eyes, I would be pleased to help you."

"I know you would." She looked around their small space before pushing herself off the wall. "I'll see you around, Thrawn."

Whatever fascination they had shared with one another had come to its inevitable and necessary end.


End file.
